


Wear a Mask, Be a Hero

by ScarletArcher



Series: Heroes in the Light [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrow 2x08 onwards, Canon deviations, Developing Friendships, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Laurel is Black Canary, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletArcher/pseuds/ScarletArcher
Summary: Oliver Queen had started a crusade in his father’s name, alone. It was bitter, harsh and unrelenting. He was left with scars and bruises that only seemed to double with each passing day. But then he found companions in his fight. Laurel, Diggle, Felicity, Roy. They made things more bearable, and for a while, he was happy, even though there was a gaping hole in his heart. Something was missing.And that was when Oliver met Barry Allen.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Wear a Mask, Be a Hero! This is a fan-fic story intended to chart the journey of the CW's Arrow and Flash television characters Oliver Queen and Barry Allen, because I'm Olivarry trash. There are some elements of the show's canon spliced with comics, and some events have been pushed further back or further along the timeline, which means that there are some changes. For example, Sara Lance hasn't resurfaced as the Canary yet, and her sister Laurel isn't going through an alcohol addiction for reasons that will be revealed throughout the story (even though I adored her alcohol storyline. Katie Cassidy really sold it and it helped me through a tough time.)
> 
> There's quite a lot I wish to cover, and I am quite excited for it, so here's hoping you guys like it and stick around for the ride! I'll be updating the characters/relationships tags as I progress with the story, because there's going to be a fair few.
> 
> Enjoy!

Oliver was crouched by the entrance to the Queen Consolidated Applied Sciences Division warehouse, his expression blank and his eyes fixed on the damage. His mind was secretly whirring, pondering on who the thief could be, and their motive behind the act in the first place.

“This door was made of expanded reinforced titanium,” John Diggle, who was kneeled beside him, said as he rose from his crouch, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What did they use to do this?”

“Not sure yet,” Detective Quentin Lance replied. He was circling the wreckage as he spoke. “No signs of any explosives. Maybe a crane, maybe a forklift,” he speculated.

Oliver straightened. His guesses were plausible. He, along with Diggle and their IT support Felicity Smoak, followed Detective Lance, who was still speaking.

“But given how quick they were in and out of here… they were fast.”

Felicity shifted anxiously at the thought. “Do you think they could come back?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver admitted lowly under his breath.

“You think it could be our mysterious blonde?” Diggle whispered, leaning into Oliver to ensure they weren’t overheard by any wandering officers. Felicity broke off from the pair to follow Quentin.

Oliver shook his head. “No. It doesn’t make sense. She shows up when Laurel and I are on patrol, or when we’re in danger, to help us, only to go and do this? It doesn’t add up.” Oliver shifted in frustration. He hated when he didn’t have an answer to a problem. It made him feel helpless.

“Well, listen, man, don’t beat yourself up over it just yet. It’s been a busy few weeks, what with your mom and all.”

Oliver looked at Diggle, and gave a single curt nod. They joined up with Quentin and Felicity, and delved deeper into the expansive warehouse.

“Any idea what these guys were so hot to break in here for?” Quentin inquired. “You didn’t happen to have a spare earthquake machine lying around, did ya?”

Oliver skidded to a halt, and glared at Quentin, unimpressed. 

The detective met Queen’s steely gaze, and turned sheepish. “Sorry,” Quentin said quickly, chastised. He sighed heavily, pointedly ignoring Diggle’s wry smirk.

“This is what we were able to pull off the, er, security cameras,” a new voice said. Oliver turned to see a technician had joined them, tapping away on a tablet. 

He turned it for them to see, and Oliver’s brow furrowed at the footage. It clearly depicted a large man hurling a guard into a row of boxes, before hurling a heavier box at the security camera. The footage sputtered out instantly, and was replaced by grainy pixels.

“The only guy we got on video,” the technician revealed. “The rest of the crew must have… come in after him.”

“Actually, it was only one guy.”

The group of five turned towards the source of the new, unfamiliar voice. A tall (though not as tall as Oliver) man who barely looked like he had passed adolescence stood a few metres away, a black tablet in one hand with his other hand stuffed into his coat pocket. He had brown hair that stuck up at the top, and Oliver bit his lip at the sight of him. He was cute, but he was also a stranger.

“Sorry I’m late,” the stranger apologised as he approached them. He did a double-take. Oliver noticed the way his eyes lit up with glee. “Actually, my train was late. Well, the second one. The first one, I did miss but — that's my cab driver’s fault. I’ve got this great traffic app and…” 

He stopped babbling for a second to sigh heavily. Oliver kept his mouth shut, and waited for him to continue.

“He thought that… he was right.” He tutted, and straightened his back. “But I’m here now, though, so…”

_ "Great," _ Quentin said dryly, “Who the hell are ya?”

“And do your parents know that you’re here?” Oliver quipped. Felicity glanced between them nervously. He knew it was a low blow, but he couldn’t help himself.

The boy’s smile waned, and the sparkle in his eyes diffused slightly. “I’m Barry Allen,” Barry said in a manner of introduction, though his tone implied that he expected them to know who he was. “I’m from the C—Central City Police Department? I’m with the Crime Scene Investigation unit.”

Barry pulled out a wallet with an ID for them to see. Oliver skimmed his eyes over it quickly, noting that everything appeared to be real, and he could tell that Barry’s voice held truth. Even still, Oliver felt apprehensive. He looked up when the C.S.I spoke, and was quietly surprised to see that their gazes met.

“We’re working on a case with some similar unexplained elements in Central City, so when the report of your robbery came over the wire, my captain sent me up here.” Barry straightened his back and nodded excessively as he recounted his story. It reminded Oliver somewhat of Felicity.

Barry smiled warmly at him, and Oliver found himself softening his piercing gaze. He raised his head in surprise, which seemed to make Barry happy. Their gazes locked for a moment, and the world seemed to quieten around them, before Quentin’s skeptical voice jolted them both back to reality. Barry broke the gaze to look at the detective, and Oliver blinked in surprise, but kept his gaze fixed on the younger man.

“And you think one guy ripped through this door,” he jerked a thumb towards the gaping entrance to further his point, “like it was tinfoil?”

“One very strong guy, yeah,” Barry confirmed with another vigorous nod. He turned to smile at Oliver again, who quickly bowed his head, almost shyly. Barry didn’t seem to mind. He turned back to Lance and said, “Er, it takes about twelve-hundred and fifty-foot pounds of torque to break someone’s neck.” He tapped his tablet, and held it out for the group. It was an image of a guard with multiple red bruises around his neck. “You see the marks on the guard’s neck? The bruising pattern suggests the killer used only one hand.”

Oliver shifted anxiously. Whoever he was going up against was extremely powerful, and if they could snap someone’s neck with a single hand… he hoped that the familiar dread coiling in the pit of his stomach was unfounded.

“I’m guessing you don’t know how hard it is to break someone’s neck?” Barry asked conversationally, a smug smile on his face.

“Hm?” Oliver refocused on the C.S.I, trying to remember what he had said. “No. No idea.” His tone must have been curt, because Barry’s smile faded and he bowed his head.

“Er, we’re gonna need a list of the entire inventory here to figure out what was stolen,” the police technician said. Oliver turned to face him and nodded.

“Actually, I think I know what was stolen.” Five pairs of surprised eyes turned to Barry. “A centrifuge,” he revealed. “An  _ industrial _ centrifuge.” He led them further into the warehouse, glancing back intermittently to make sure they were still behind him. “Probably the Kord Enterprises 2BX-900,  _ maybe _ the 6-series. Both have a three column base."

They parked to a stop over a triangular base on the ground. Unhinged bolts were pointed towards the ceiling. Oliver noted that whatever was in the base had been ripped out.

“Here, you can see the three sets of broken bolts where the thief just…” Barry made a noise, “Ripped it out of the ground.”

Oliver stared open-mouthed at Barry, impressed. He ducked his head as soon as Barry looked up, pretending to study the base, even though he had already made his observations.

“And what exactly is a centrifuge?” Quentin inquired.

“It separates the liquids,” Felicity finally spoke up. She turned to Quentin and fiddled with her hands as she continued her explanation, “the centripetal acceleration causes denser substances to separate out along the radial direction.”

“The lighter objects move to the top,” Barry added with a smile.

Felicity looked at him, impressed. Oliver knew that she didn’t usually have someone to talk to about the more scientific aspects of their crusades, and she often got lonely. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Barry. Allen.”

“Felicity. Smoak.”

Oliver noted the smitten grins they shared. A wave of irritation passed through him — though he didn’t know why — and he glared at the C.S.I. 

Barry turned to smile at him and, getting the hint, breathed through his nostrils as he refocused on the missing centrifuge. “You can see the cracks heading towards the door.” He pointed along the floor at a set of large footsteps dented into the floor, illuminated by the fluorescent lights. “Footsteps.” He turned to Oliver specifically with another round of energised nods. “One guy.”

He smiled expectantly, as if he was hoping for a compliment, but Oliver brushed past him to examine the base. He heard Barry’s breath hitch as he passed, but didn’t dwell on it, opting to kneel beside the base instead.

“Anyway, it’s just a theory. One backed by a  _ lot _ of evidence.”

“There has to be another explanation,” Quentin said skeptically. Clearly Barry’s story still sounded unfounded to him. Oliver watched him walk away with Felicity through the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Barry said, a trace of irritation in his voice. Oliver turned to him while Quentin and Felicity quietly shared a conversation, most likely about his alter-ego, the Hood, and simply studied him.

Barry Allen. He was smart, youthful, energetic, slightly smug and irritating.

And yet he had an endearing smile.

Oliver shook his head. He would probably never see him again after the investigation in the warehouse had wrapped up.


	2. The Scientist - Part One

Following the encounter in the Applied Science Division warehouse, Barry took a deep breath to fully comprehend the fact that it  _ worked. _ He had managed to bluff his way into the crime scene, and was quite proud of the achievement. He had walked around Star City for a bit, conversed with Detective Lance and Felicity Smoak, and managed to convince them to let him provide additional assistance to the case.

Now, he was in the main Queen Consolidated office building, having narrowly avoided a shower of rain. He was scheduled to meet up with Felicity and Oliver. The sheer absurdity of the sentence still baffled him. He, Barry Allen, was meeting Oliver Queen. If only Iris were there to share the glory with him.

Barry swerved right, and noticed Oliver, Felicity and their security guard, John Diggle, huddled together by the window. He approached them curiously, one hand stuffed in his pocket and the other pulling the luggage bag filled with his equipment. As he meandered through the glass doors leading into a large, lavish office, Barry realised Oliver had noticed his arrival.

“Can we help you with something, detective?” he asked, poking his head over Felicity to look at him properly. Barry still felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach whenever Oliver looked at him. The man was  _ hot. _ Barry knew he should have just avoided him altogether, given the recent news about his family and his playboy past, but he had gravitated towards Oliver like a moth to a flame. Unfortunately, Oliver had been cold towards him. Barry internally cringed when he realised that his painstakingly obvious crush was probably even more visible than he had thought.

Nevertheless, Barry smiled at the acknowledgement, and said, “Oh, C.S.I's aren’t actually detectives. We don’t even carry guns. Just some… plastic baggies.” He chuckled, and was delighted when Felicity laughed as well. Oliver remained stoic. Switching topics, Barry pointed to his luggage. “Er, where should I set up my equipment?”

“I’ll show you,” Felicity offered. She started to move towards him, when she was halted by Oliver.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Barry immediately jumped at the chance to talk to Oliver again. “Oh, y—your assistant said that you’d prefer to keep the investigation in-house, so I cleared it with my captain to give you a hand.” Barry nodded eagerly — he had to stop doing that — and smiled when Oliver nodded in response. The smile faded as soon as the billionaire dragged Felicity towards the window. The pair talked quietly, and he strained his ear to listen, smiling sheepishly when Diggle smirked knowingly. 

Barry immediately looked away when Felicity craned her neck to look at him, hoping she didn’t notice his lack of grace while doing so. They talked a for a little longer, before Felicity turned back to him with a smile. 

“I’ll show you around,” she said. Barry nodded happily. Felicity was the only one out of the trio who had been warm to him. He was glad that she was his guide around the building. He smiled at Oliver, and tried not to blush at the piercing intensity in Oliver’s gaze. The merest look had almost captivated him, leaving him distracted enough to bump his luggage with the back of his legs. It crashed onto the ground loudly like a felled tree, startling Felicity.

Barry flushed. “Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly, before turning back to Oliver and Diggle to do the same. He was delighted when Oliver briefly offered him the barest amused, charmed smile. Barry felt the corners of his own lips tugging upwards into a smile. It was the first sign of friendliness Oliver had exhibited. They stayed like that for a few short seconds, merely smiling at each other, before Felicity recaptured his attention, helped him pick up his luggage and led him out of the room.

Barry tried to push Oliver out of his mind, but his smile seemed to have permanently seared itself onto his mind.

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Barry was back in the Applied Science Division sector of Queen Consolidated, and was busy setting up his equipment. He activated a circle of ultraviolet lights with the flick of a button and hurried into the centre, bending down beside the triangular container. He picked a pair of rubber clothes from his kit box, put them on, and crawled to a footprint.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Felicity asked.

Barry examined the footprint keenly. “Your thief’s shoe touched the ground, which means he’s tracked in dozens of clues as to where he’s been the past few days.” He brushed through the mud and concrete, until he found what he was looking for. Using a pair of tweezers, Barry picked up a speck of soil triumphantly. “Gotcha.”

He moved to his portable analysis machine, Felicity closely on his heels. He activated it and waited patiently for the compartment to whir open. Felicity glanced at him in wide-eyed awe, and the two chuckled.

Once it had opened fully, Barry put the speck in the compartment holder. “This shouldn’t take long,” he assured Felicity as the machine whirred close. The computer monitor beeped, but Barry’s attention was on Felicity. He was fully aware of her encounter with the Hood, and was finding it difficult to reign in his excitable curiosity. Eventually, he couldn’t help but ask. “So, you’ve seen him, right? The—the vigilante? I read that he saved you. What was he like?”

Felicity, whose attention Barry had managed to capture for a few seconds, suddenly looked away. She appeared distracted. Maybe it was still a tough subject. “... Green,” she said, eventually.

_ "Green," _ Barry whispered, an epiphany already brewing in the depths of his mind. He turned back to the sullen Felicity. “That’s interesting, right? I mean… why green?  _ Black _ would be better for stealth  _ and _ urban camouflage.” He licked his lips, anticipating the excitement of sharing his theories with others. “Me, personally? I think that he trained in some sort of, like, forest or jungle environment, and the green is a nod to that.”

“I don’t give the vigilante much thought,” Felicity admitted. She walked to the other side of the table and switched off an ultraviolet light source. As she rose, the eager Barry started speaking again.

“Police reports show that he uses carbon arrows, but if he switched to an aluminum carbon composite, he would have…  _ far _ better penetration.”

“Maybe he thinks he penetrates just fine,” Felicity said seriously. Barry internally blushed at the thought of the Hood’s penetration. He had the slightest crush on the vigilante, though he would never admit it to anybody. The only person who knew was Iris, who practically wrestled it out of him the day the Hood and Black Canary saved Roy Harper, which was perhaps the first time Barry realised he had a crush.

“D’you wanna know something else?” Barry asked. Felicity’s eyebrows rose in question, which he took as a sign to continue. “I think that he has partners. Definitely someone with a background in computer sciences.”

Felicity reached over to fiddle with a computer, sneaking a cautious look at him as she did so. “Yeah,” she murmured. She turned to properly face him. “Why are you so interested in the vigilante?”

Barry’s expression tightened. A melancholy laugh escaped his lips as he looked down at the table, deep in thought. The memories stung when he revisited them, but he trusted Felicity. She was clearly a good person, and maybe even a good friend. He steeled his nerves, and started his woeful tale. “When I was eleven, my mom was murdered.”

“I’m so sorry,” she responded immediately, looking guilty. That was the moment Barry knew he was correct in his assumptions about her. She was a good person.

“No,” he shook his head.  _ It wasn’t your fault, _ he wanted to say, but the words didn’t come. “They never caught the guy who did it,” he said instead, bitterly. His gritted his teeth to conceal his frustration, and shrugged, a rueful smile etched on his face. “Maybe  _ he _ would have.”

Mercifully, the computer beeped, capturing their attention and ending the conversation. Barry tapped a key, and a new window popped up. Interest soon overtook him, washing away the melancholiness. “The soil — there’s a crystalline structure in it.” He tapped a couple of keys again, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Felicity asked.

“It’s sugar,” Barry replied, his tone laced with bewilderment. He turned to the thoughtful blonde. “What is it?”

“I need to call Oliver.”

* * *

 

“Found something?” Oliver asked as he and Diggle strode towards them.

“ _We_ found something,” Felicity said.

Barry moved to join them on the opposite end of the table. “There were trace amounts of sucrose in the speck of dirt the killer dragged in here on his boot.” Barry offered Oliver a bashful smile, and the billionaire’s lips twitched upwards in response.

“Which got me thinking,” Felicity said, capturing their attention. “There is a sugar refinery two miles from here. The land around it is suffused in waste sugar, so I checked. They had a delivery truck stolen a few weeks ago.”

Barry picked up where she left off instantly. “Their truck matches the make and model of the truck the thief used to steal the centrifuge.”

“Can you track the vehicle?” Oliver asked, directing the question to Felicity.

“We’ve been trying,” Felicity replied.

A beeping noise caught Oliver’s attention, and he turned to the computer. “What was that?”

Barry and Felicity turned. On the screen was a blue digital map of the city, with three red markers dotted at random points. The map zoomed in on a specific red dot, and a confirmation report popped up on the screen.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Felicity said in disbelief. “The truck, it was just used to rob a… blood bank?”

“Are you sure?” Oliver inquired.

“Yeah! Our guy just made off with thirty-thousand ccs of O-negative.”

Barry’s mouth flapped open and closed in bemusement. That was a new one.

“What, he has super strength,” Diggle said, “Likes blood? Please don’t tell me we suddenly believe in vampires.”

Barry winced. He once had an intense, fleeting, crush on Damon Salvatore which he never truly got over. He mentally reprimanded himself for going off-topic, and returned to the matter at hand. “We should give this information to the local police,” he said with wide eyes.

“I’ll… take care of that,” Oliver assured him. “Did you say that you were working a similar case in Central City?

“Oh,” Barry winced. He had gotten so embroiled in the case that he had completely forgotten his lie. “Yeah, erm…” He shook his head, wondering if he could should clean, before deciding against it. “Yeah, you know, it’s—it’s similar. Has similar elements. A lot of similarities.”

Oliver nodded along to Barry’s story. “Right,” he said, and walked away with Diggle. Barry turned to Felicity nervously, wondering if he had gotten away with it, before deciding to focus on assisting her in locating the van.

“Listen,” Felicity said quietly, leaning into him until her shoulder brushed his to reduce the chance of being overheard. “I’ve never lost anyone that horribly, but if you — and you can tell me to get lost for this — but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

Barry smiled at her. “Thanks, Felicity. I really do appreciate that.”

“Any time,” she bumped his shoulder. “What are friends for?”

Barry grinned at that.

* * *

 

_ "So, how’s it going in Star City?” _ Iris West asked over the phone. She sounded tense. _ "You haven’t been attacked, have you?" _

“No, no,” Barry assured her. “Nothing like that.”

_ "Good," _ Iris sighed in relief.

“Hey,” Barry cooed soothingly. “I’m going to be fine. And I’m only here for the day.”

_ "You know dad’s going to kill you, right?" _

“Yup,” Barry sighed. He didn’t want to think about what happened to the individuals that wrought the wrath of Joe West. “Hey, you know there’s a thief here who can snap necks with one hand?”

_ "God, Bar," _ Iris said, perturbed.  _ "I wish you’d just come home." _

“Iris.”

_ "Barry." _

“I have to do this,” he said determinedly. “If I find a lead, it could change everything.”

_ "I know." _ What she really wanted to say was _ 'that’s what you said last time' _ but she held off. _ "Just… stay safe, okay?" _

“I will. I promise,” Barry assured her. He knew Iris was only looking out for him. She was protective of him, always trying to shield him from the world. He supposed it was because she had seen him at his most vulnerable state, after his mum and dad.

There was a knock on the door, and Barry turned to see Felicity had made her way to the small office Queen Consolidated had allowed him to stay in until the investigation had been complete. “Hey,” she said.

Barry smiled at her. “Look, Iris, I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

_ "Okay," _ Iris said reluctantly. _ "Call me when you’re on your way home." _

“Okay. Bye.” Barry said. He waited for Iris to say goodbye before he hung up and turned to Felicity. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” Felicity asked nervously.

“No, no,” Barry assured her. “She had to get back to her shift anyway.”

“‘She’ being Iris?” Felicity deduced. “Is she your… girlfriend?”

“My… ? Oh.” Barry’s eyes widened. “Oh! No. Nooo. She’s my best friend, and adoptive sister, but I don't really see her that way.” Barry smiled wistfully. Just his friend.

“Oh. Cool,” Felicity smiled. “I’m an only child. Sometimes, I wish I had a sibling. Other times… anyway, I need your help with something.”

“Of course. What is it?”

* * *

 

Once again in Applied Sciences, Felicity explained the blood sample they would be examining. While Felicity put on a pair of pink rubber gloves, Barry’s eyes drifted to the row of chemicals behind him, and he faltered.

“No way.”

“What?”

He strode over to the chemical shelf, aghast. “They have nitric acid next to hydrazine?” he said, affronted. He climbed onto the shelf and picked up two chemicals, shaking them vigorously. “Permanganates on top of acetones? This is the  _ definition _ of dangerous.”

“If it’s so dangerous, maybe you shouldn’t be touching them,” Felicity said worriedly. A loud clap of thunder caught Barry’s attention, and he looked at the window behind him blankly. His eyes glazed over when... “Barry?”

Barry whipped his head around. “Yeah?”

“I managed to get a sample of the perpetrator's blood from the police department,” she explained again. Barry was half-distracted by his compulsive desire to rearrange the dangerous chemicals. “We need to isolate the sedative in the blood. It could lead us to the thief.”

Barry looked at her in puzzlement. “How did the police get it?”

“Apparently the vigilante shot him with an arrow,” Felicity explained, unscrewing the lid of a bottle.

Barry stared at her in shock, his mission to fix the chemicals quickly forgotten. “You’re kidding?” He clambered down excitedly. “You know what this means, right? This means the vigilante’s working the same case we are!”

Felicity smiled at his enthusiasm. She placed a syringe with the blood sample in a test tube and depressed the button, transferring the liquid over. “Go figure.”

“How did you get it?” Barry asked.

“Oliver has a lot of connections.”

Barry was awestruck. He laughed in amazement. “Wow,” he breathed. Oliver Queen helping the police. Even if it was just to help his own company, he was still lending a hand, a stark contrast to his younger years. “Pays to work for a billionaire.”

“Actually, my take home’s nothing special.” Felicity placed the test tube in the analyser and snapped the lid shut. “Especially given I am rarely at home, since I’m with him every night.”

The words struck Barry. “Ah.” He watched Felicity in disappointment. Oliver was taken. Of course he was. Barry didn’t know why he expected anything different. “I didn’t realise you and he were…”

“Oh, no,” Felicity said quickly, her eyes large behind her glasses. “Work. He… and I are not, no. I… do not like Oliver,” she added firmly, with a smile. Barry wasn't sure if it was a knowing one. He couldn’t quite tell. Maybe she had already noticed his crush on Oliver. He smiled and quickly look away, hoping to distract himself with the chemicals to hide his mortification.

“Erm, I was invited — to a work function," Felicity called out. “It’s… it’s a party,” she admitted. “And I have a plus one.”

Barry nodded, not entirely sure why she was sharing the information with him.

“I was thinking you would make... a really good… plus one.”

Barry was touched by her invitation. He never really got party invitations by anybody back at home, but he had only spent a few hours in Star City and had already made friends with someone who liked him enough to invite him to a party. He laughed happily, and looked up at the smiling Felicity. A terrifying thought gripped him and he asked, “But there’s not going to be dancing, is there?”

Felicity looked at him in confusion.

“I’m just not too good on my feet,” he elaborated.

Felicity grinned playfully. “Don’t worry, Oliver’s a great teacher.”

“Oliver?” Barry blushed. “Oh. Is he going to be there as well?”

“Well, yeah, it’s his party,” Felicity chuckled nervously. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like him?”

“No! No, I do  _ like _ him.”

“Good!” Felicity said loudly. “That’s — that’s good.”

“But I don’t think he likes  _ me." _

“Oh,” Felicity waved a dismissive hand. “Psh. Don’t worry about that. He’s like that with every new person he meets. He’ll warm up to you during the dancing lessons.”

“You sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“No,” she insisted. “He will warm up to you, don’t you worry.”

Barry was taken aback by the conviction in her tone, and chuckled. “Okay.”

Felicity smiled. “Great.”

* * *

 

After the invitation, Felicity had relieved him of duty so he could take a break. Grateful, he returned to the office to relax. He switched on the television, skipping through the programmes, and stopped at Channel 52 curiously. A news report was currently broadcasting about an event back in Central City.

_ "Central City is just a day away from making history when the controversial S.T.A.R Lab’s particle accelerator is finally turned on," _ the woman reported neutrally.

“It’s pretty cool, right?” Barry grinned at a displeased Felicity as she joined him.

“You know there’s been a hundred percent increase in earthquakes since they’ve turned on the Large Hadron Collider,” Felicity pointed out.

Barry pulled a playful face. “That data is misleading.”

“Oh?” Felicity grinned. “Do tell.”

“You know about misleading, don’t you?” Oliver asked as he strolled into the office. Barry turned to look at him, his smile fading into a puzzled frown.

“What are you talking about?” Felicity questioned, equally confused.

“He’s not from C.S.I, he’s an assistant,” Oliver revealed bluntly. “Whose bosses don’t know you’re in Star City. And there is no similar case in Central City. So tell me, Barry…” Oliver paused to take a breath. “What are you really doing here?”

Barry sighed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut. He had been caught. He bit the inside of his cheek and mentally prepared himself. He turned to the shocked Felicity, and mustered the words that almost escaped him. “I told you my mum was murdered.”

“By your father,” Oliver interjected. Barry whipped around to glare at him in an instant. There was a rage in Oliver’s sea blue eyes unlike anything Barry had seen before, but he was so overcome with a spontaneous rage of his own that he pushed it to the back of his mind.

“He  _ didn’t _ do it,” Barry said heatedly, moving across the table to square off against the billionaire. He was in disbelief, wondering how exactly Oliver thought it was okay to go prying into his personal life.

“You said that the police didn’t find the man who killed her,” Felicity pointed out.

“The police think they did,” Barry revealed glumly. Felicity still looked at him, nonplussed. Barry elaborated, “my dad has been serving a life sentence.” The words almost choked him, and he took a second to regain his composure. “They didn’t believe me.”

“About what?”

Barry almost didn’t respond, but when he looked over at Oliver, who was staring at him accusingly as if he were a criminal, Barry couldn’t but say, “I was eleven.” He licked his lips nervously. The memory was painful, and it continued to terrify him. 

“One night, something just came into our house, like a tornado. A blur. Somewhere inside the blur, I saw a person.” He turned back to the unresponsive Oliver, who tensed at his gaze. “My dad went to fight it. I tried to get him when suddenly…” he sighed, “I was twenty blocks away from our house. Nobody believed me.” He scoffed derisively. “They thought I was just trying to cover for my father.

But what I saw that night  _ was _ real. As real as the man that ripped down the metal door with his bare hands.”

Oliver, whose gaze Barry had managed to hold until now, looked away and kissed his teeth. Barry sighed and shook his head.

“That’s why I look into cases like this,” he revealed, looking up to find Oliver staring at him again. For a second, neither spoke. They were both mesmerised by each other’s eyes, until Barry decided he needed to defend himself in front of his new friend. “The ones nobody believes are possible.”

Felicity gulped. His story was clearly affecting her.

“Maybe if I can just make sense of  _ one, _ I might be able to find out who really killed my mother. And free my dad.” He hated how vulnerable he felt in front of them, and couldn’t fight the wave of sadness that overcame him.  He sighed. “I am sorry I lied to you,” Barry sincerely said to Oliver, who appeared to have been struck by Barry’s story, though he remained silent.

He shook his head.  Maybe the rumours held truth after all.

“Better find another plus one,” he told Felicity, before leaving the room.

It was only once he was in the lift that Barry tried to control his shaking hands.


	3. The Scientist - Part Two

The lift doors pinged open, and Barry stepped out. He kept his head down, and walked in long, frantic strides. He had to get away. He could always return for his equipment later, but for now, he just had to escape. He simultaneously felt a plethora of emotions — shame, embarrassment,  anger, sadness — that all swirled together in a blinding cacophony, dizzying him.

Despite his compromised emotions, Barry managed to successfully weave himself through the numerous Queen Consolidated employees that walked past. He had managed to make it to the entrance, feeling proud of himself, when the glass doors slid open and he collided with a carton of coffees. The coffee flew out of a woman’s hands, crashing onto the floor with a clatter, but not before leaving a large brown stain on her shirt.

“Oh my god,” Barry exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!” Flustered, he pulled a tissue and started rubbing at the stain, hoping she would take it as a kind gesture. He winced when he realised that he was only making the stain worse. Several people snickered behind them, surveying the scene with glee.

The woman glared at him angrily, and Barry stuttered another apology, producing another tissue from his pocket before he realised it was futile. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and made a strangled noise. The brunette woman simply raised an eyebrow in response. Barry couldn’t help but note her beauty. She had flowing shoulder-length brown hair, piercing green eyes, and carried herself with an elegance that he was envious of. There was also something about the woman that made him pause, a sense of familiarity that he couldn’t quite place.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Barry offered, before belatedly analysing the expensive material of her shirt. He bit his lip awkwardly. “... Do you take IOUs?”

To his surprise, the woman started laughing. She had a lovely, radiant smile that lit up her whole face. “Tell you what,” she said, “Just forget about it.”

“You sure?” Barry asked hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t have much money right now, but I can —”

“I’m sure,” she interjected. “Besides, I have plenty of other shirts.”

“Oh,” Barry responded dumbly, before his brain finally caught up to him and he realised that he looked like a fool. “Erm, I’m Allen — I mean Barry. Barry Allen.”

“Laurel,” she introduced, outstretching her hand. Barry shook it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Barry said sincerely. He pointed at the shirt. “You sure you don’t want an IOU?”

“I’m sure,” she chuckled. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Barry smiled sheepishly. “Sorry again.”

“There’s no need to feel bad,” she assured him. “It was an accident.”

He nodded distractedly, his brow furrowed. He had noticed an ugly purple bruise blossoming on her neck. “Are you okay? That looks nasty.”

“Oh, this?” Laurel rubbed her neck with a sheepish smile. “Lucky hit. Comes with the job, I guess. You should see the other person.”

“The job?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

Everything clicked into place. “Laurel?”

“Yes?”

“Laurel  _ Lance?" _ Barry questioned. His eyes widened when she nodded in confirmation. “Wow,” he breathed. “Wow, it’s an honour. Your cases against Martin Somers, Adam Hunt and Daniel Brickwell are renowned stories in the Central City police department.”

“I was just doing my job,” Laurel bowed her head humbly. “But, I  _ am _ happy that I was able to bring those scumbags to justice.”

“Always trying to save the world,” said a familiar voice. Barry turned in surprise, and realised Oliver had somehow snuck up behind them, though his attention was fixed on the lawyer. “Hi, Laurel. Pick a fight with a coffee recently?”

Laurel pursed her lips, but she seemed more amused than irritated. “Oh, you know me, Ollie,” she said breezily. “I don’t take kindly to villains.”

“Even when you’re on the losing side?” Oliver teased good-naturedly, gesturing towards the stain. He was smiling, properly smiling. Barry couldn’t help but stare at him. It was a gentle, relaxed grin, the kind he hadn’t seen him use when talking to Felicity or Diggle. There was history between Oliver and Laurel, Barry could tell, but he wasn’t sure how deeply it ran.

“Well, you can laugh all you want, but  _ I’m  _ here to see Felicity.” Laurel’s voice jolted Barry from his observations. “Joanna would like her computer expertise on a case we’re working on.”

“Of course.” Oliver moved aside and gestured towards the doorway chivalrously. “You know where to find her.”

Laurel nodded at him, and smiled at Barry. “It was nice meeting you,” she said.

“You, too,” Barry replied. He couldn’t help but smile in response. Laurel disappeared through the office doors, and left the pair alone. As soon as she was gone, a tense silence filled the air. Oliver looked at Barry with a neutral expression, which made him squirm uncomfortably. Barry quickly looked away, and started walking down the steps when — 

“Barry.”

He froze, and slowly pivoted on the spot to face the billionaire again. Oliver’s expression was still undecipherable. His hands were stuffed in his suit pockets, and his gaze was still fixed on Barry.

“Can I talk to you.” Oliver somehow managed to phrase it like a demand. “In private?”

Barry’s lips pursed together in a thin line, and he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to talk to Oliver after he had poured his heart out, but the man stared at him insistently. Eventually, he nodded and begrudgingly followed Oliver back into Queen Consolidated.

* * *

 

The lift doors slid open and Laurel stepped out. She turned left, intending to check Oliver’s office for Felicity, or Diggle who could lead her to the blonde, only to come face-to-face with Isabel Rochev, Oliver’s business partner. She had a file in one hand, and her long, brown hair was parted to one side.

Isabel tensed at the sight of her. “Ms. Lance,” she said stiffly. “I hadn’t realised Lane’s Law Firm had scheduled a meeting this afternoon.”

“That’s because they haven’t,” Laurel replied.

Isabel raised a quizzical brow. “Then is there any particular reason as to why you are in Queen Consolidated?”

“There’s been a break-in, Ms. Rochev. I’m liaising with the SCPD to check up on and provide the necessary legal action for the security guards injured in the attack,” Laurel explained coolly.

“Really.” Isabel didn’t sound convinced.

“Really,” Laurel repeated neutrally.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re up here on the top floor.”

“The same could be said for you,” Laurel countered.

Isabel smiled patronisingly. “I work here, Ms. Lance. The same cannot be said for you. So — why are you up here on the top floor?”

Laurel and Isabel regarded each other. A tense silence filled the air, charged with adrenaline. “I have Oliver’s permission to be up here,” Laurel said.

“All the same, I’d quite like to know the reason myself.”

“I can help with that!”

They both turned to see Felicity hurrying towards them, her high heels clicking on the polished linoleum floor. She had a tablet in hand, and was smiling nervously.

“Well, not help, exactly,  _ but _ I know why she’s here.” She turned to her friend with a smile. “Hey, Laurel.”

Laurel relaxed and smiled. “Hi, Felicity.”

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “Well, Ms. Smoak?”

“Right, sorry.” Felicity straightened and cleared her throat. “As you know, Oliver — Mr.  _ Queen _ — would prefer to keep the investigation in-house, so he’s pooling all his contacts into one big paddle pool, so to speak. Did you bring the thing? Laurel?”

It took Laurel a second to catch onto the ruse. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I did.” She produced the USB stick Joanna had given her and held it up for Felicity and Isabel to see. “The data from the law firm that Oliver needs.”

“Perfect!” Felicity grinned.

“Hmm.” Isabel narrowed her steely eyes. “Very well.” She made to leave, but paused mid-way. “By the way, Ms. Lance. That’s an ugly bruise on your neck. You should be more careful walking around the city.”

Laurel let the threat hang, before she responded with a smile, “I think it’s the other person who should be more careful.”

Isabel sneered. “I’d clean that coffee stain if I were you. I wouldn’t want investors to think that we were letting our standards slip.” With that, she turned and strode away, her heels clicking as she did so. She disappeared around a corner.

Laurel and Felicity watched her go, before Felicity sighed in relief. “Finally,” she said, “I thought she’d never leave.”

“You and me both,” Laurel muttered. “That was some quick thinking you did there.”

“Oh, thanks!” Felicity smiled. “I just thought about what Barry did and it was surprisingly easy.”

“Barry? As in Barry Allen?”

“Yeah.” Felicity blinked in confusion. “Hey, how did you know?”

“I just met him outside,” Laurel revealed. “He’s the reason I have this coffee stain.”

Felicity perked up. “And here I was, thinking it was some new fashion craze that I was yet to grasp.”

Laurel playfully rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

“Is he still there?”

“Barry? I don’t think so.” Laurel watched Felicity deflate in disappointment. “Why? Did I miss something?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the blonde replied sullenly, before backtracking. “I’ll tell you later. So, what do you need?”

* * *

 

Oliver led Barry into an empty office room on the first floor of Queen Consolidated. He closed the door behind them, and stalked further into the room. Barry watched him go, nervously wondering what Oliver’s motive was. He remained silent, for fear that the billionaire would whirl around and spout more about Barry’s past, and dredge up unwanted memories.

Eventually, Oliver, with his back to Barry, spoke. “Barry, you lied to us.”

Barry winced. He didn’t need nor want to be reminded of that fact. He felt guilty enough as it was.

“But,” Oliver continued. He coughed awkwardly, “I suppose I was… I sort of overreacted when I found out.” He turned around, his face and tone impassive. “Especially since you’d helped so much with our investigation.”

A smile grew on Barry’s face. It was probably the closest thing to an apology he was going to get from Oliver. He looked Oliver in the eye, and nodded. “It’s okay.”

It definitely wasn't okay, but Barry was never able to hold a grudge against most people, and Oliver truly seemed remorseful.

Oliver’s gaze lingered momentarily, before he broke it and coughed nervously. “And I think that… Felicity would quite like it if you attended the party tonight.”

Barry blinked. “I can come?”

“Yes.”

Barry stuttered a little, trying to coherently voice his gratitude. “Thank you. I do appreciate that.” His grin waned. “But, I don’t have anything to wear and…”

“And?” Oliver prompted.

“... I can’t dance,” Barry admitted sheepishly. Oliver blinked at him, and a small smile curled his lips upwards.

“You don’t  _ have _ to dance.”

“Oh, I—I know, and I’d agree with you — I’m more than happy to just stand and… stare, but I think Felicity wants a dance.” He tried to decipher the expression that grew on Oliver’s face, but it was unreadable. He found that strange, considering how easily he was able to read Iris, Felicity and even Diggle. It was surprisingly difficult for someone who was supposed to be a playboy, which Barry was constantly changing his opinion on. “She said you’d teach me?” he added, though he sounded unsure. 

Oliver marginally tilted his head upward, his lips pursed. Wordlessly, he nodded and brushed past Barry. The confused C.S.I watched as he opened the door, and gestured for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Barry asked.

“You’ll see,” Oliver replied brusquely. “Come on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Barry followed him. He noticed that Oliver walked in big, purposeful strides, and struggled to keep up. They walked across the corridor, turned left, down the stairs and into the lobby. Oliver fleetingly told a receptionist called Marianne to cancel his remaining meetings as he waltzed out the door, Barry on his heels. They reached a sidewalk, and simply stood there. Barry fleetingly shot a confused look in Oliver’s direction, but the other man remained unreadable.

“Oliver —“ Barry was interrupted by the arrival of a black limousine. It parked in front of them, and John Diggle popped his head out of the window. 

Oliver nodded curtly at him, opened a door, and slid inside. He raised an eyebrow at Barry. “Coming?”

Barry’s mouth flapped open and closed in confusion. “Er…” he managed. “I—I guess?” He slid into the seat beside Oliver and, after a pointed look from Diggle, belatedly realised he had to close the door. He hurriedly slammed it shut, and jolted in surprise when the limo started to move forward.

“It’ll be a while before we get there,” Oliver said.

“But…” Barry turned to him. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t get an answer. Grudgingly accepting this, Barry slouched into the comfortable leather seat, and simply stared at the city outside the glass windows. They quickly picked up speed, and the buildings began to blur together. People walked to and fro, living out their day-to-day lives. Barry found that fascinating. Everybody had a purpose. They were all the main characters of their own story. Love, life and adventure, in whatever shape or form. He realised that he didn’t appreciate that enough.

Buildings slowly transitioned into trees and soil, and the final glimmers of weak December sunlight peeked out from behind the clouds, bathing Barry’s face with an orange glow. His eyes drifted to the side of the window, which reflected the space behind him. He noticed Oliver staring at him, an odd transfixed expression on his face.

When Barry turned around, Oliver was looking out the opposite window.

* * *

 

The limo finally ground to a halt. Barry raised his head — he had almost dozed off — and gaped at the building before his eyes. A large mansion, with Victorian-style brown brickwork, gothic spires and arches, stood proudly before him. It was like a castle.

Oliver appeared before him, and smirked. Barry realised he had been staring for longer than he had intended, and hurried out of the car. As soon as he did, a rush of cold wind hit him, and he pulled his coat closer to his frame to ward off the chill. He had been soaked getting to Queen Consolidated for the investigation in the first place, he didn’t want to catch a cold. Barry was pitiful when he had a cold. He was unable to function properly, and relegated himself to sitting in the West living room with  _ Game of Thrones _ and chicken soup.

A black luggage case was deposited by his feet at the courtesy of John. Barry’s eyes widened in puzzlement. “This is my stuff. But how...?”

“I had Diggle pack your stuff before he picked us up,” Oliver explained.

“But… he picked us up pretty quickly. Did you miss some stuff?”

“Nope,” Diggle replied. He spoke in a deep, baritone rasp that took Barry by surprise. “That’s everything.”

“So, you packed it all up beforehand.” Barry turned to Oliver in bemusement. “Hang on, did you  _ plan _ th—”

Oliver coughed loudly. “Diggle, could you check with Raisa to see if the main lounge is free? We’ll need the space.”

Diggle’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Of course, Mr. Queen.” He smirked wryly, winking at Barry as he passed. Barry blinked obliviously at the gesture, keeping his expression fixed on the quiet Oliver.

“Is this where you live?” Barry inquired.

“Yes,” Oliver confirmed with a nod.

Barry smiled, and looked up at a spire. “It’s beautiful,” he noted.

“It is that,” Oliver agreed. “But it’s easy to get lost in, so stick with me.”

“Okay,” Barry replied, daunted by the prospect of getting lost in the mansion. Oliver briskly walked to the door, and Barry hurriedly followed after him. A short maid opened the door, and took their coats as she greeted them both. She had a Russian accent, Barry noted, as she held the door open wide for them to enter. He made sure to thank her before he caught up to Oliver.

They walked through a wide square archway into a grand living room, filled with expensive paintings and ornate decorations. There were several lamps in the room, with a large chandelier hanging atop the sofas. On the far end, next to a table and several oak chairs, was a lit fireplace, with a large painting and decorative items atop the mantlepiece. It was homey, and unsurprisingly spacious.

Oliver coughed, jolting Barry out of his awed trance. He had shed his black suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his tucked blue shirt, revealing toned muscles and leaving nothing to the imagination. “Barry,” Oliver said.

“Y—Yeah?” Barry’s voice cracked, and he gulped to clear his suddenly dry throat.

“Do you want to do it or not?”

“Wha—” Barry stared at him alarm. Realisation quickly dawned on him, and his eyes widened. “Oh! Dancing! Learning to. Right, yeah. Of course.” He moved closer until he was stood directly in front of Oliver and grinned nervously. “I was serious about not being able to dance,” he said. He didn't know why, but he felt inclined to repeat the fact. “Does holding your hands and swaying count? ‘Cause I can definitely do that.”

Oliver shook his head. “I'm going to teach you to dance properly,” he told the deflating Barry. He held out his hand, and waited patiently while Barry flailed. Eventually, Barry placed his right arm on Oliver’s shoulder, while his left hung limply on the side. Oliver seemed bothered by that, Barry could tell, but he didn't comment. “Ready?” he asked. Barry nodded.

The rehearsal was disastrous. The pair had managed two steps before Barry accidentally trod on Oliver’s foot. A flustered Barry apologised profusely, but Oliver brushed it off with the recommendation that they start again. 

Barry agreed, and they managed four extra steps before he tripped over his dance partner’s foot and collapsed ungracefully onto a nearby sofa. He sighed and rolled over. “I said I was bad.”

Oliver looked like he was barely able to suppress his irritation. “You’re... getting better,” he said unconvincingly.

“Oh my god, are you kidding?” a voice unfamiliar to Barry asked incredulously. “That was  _ terrible." _

A girl younger than Barry was stood in the archway. She was small, with short, wavy shoulder-length brown hair and twinkling brown eyes. She shared facial resemblances to Oliver. Barry deduced that she was his younger sister, Thea Queen.

Oliver shot her a warning look, but Thea appeared unfazed. She traipsed across the room and smiled down at Barry. “Hi.” She held out a hand. “I’m Thea.”

“I’m Barry,” Barry introduced himself. He accepted her hand, and allowed himself to be heaved off the sofa. 

“Nice to meet you.” Thea’s grip on his hand lingered, and she flipped it around to look at the palm of his hand. “Ollie teaching you how to dance?”

“Er, yes. Yes, he is.” Barry turned to look at the silent Oliver. “It’s… not going well.”

“Clearly,” Thea said snidely. “You know what? It’s probably not your fault, Barry. My brother’s just a rubbish teacher.”

“Way to lay it on thick, Speedy,” Oliver said lightly. “But I happen to think that I’m an excellent teacher.”

“Mm.” Thea smiled at him, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “Sure, Ollie. You know, I’m a better one.” She held out her hand. “Come here.”

Oliver hesitated. “Why?”

“Come  _ on," _ Thea urged. Eventually, he complied and grabbed onto her outstretched hand. She smiled, and joined Oliver and Barry’s hands together, to Barry’s surprise. Oliver’s hand was calloused, and his grip was firm. “There!” she declared. “Now you can coordinate more easily.” She patted Oliver’s shoulder as she walked away. “You can both thank me later at the party.”

Oliver pursed his lips. “I can do better,” he grumbled. 

Before Barry could question the comment, Oliver snaked a hand around his waist and pulled him close. He blinked, startled, and barely registered Thea’s fading presence. Oliver’s grip was strong, and the smell of his aftershave almost made Barry dizzy. It was sweet, but strong, a combination he was starting to associate with the other man.

“Barry?”

Barry snapped out of his trance. “Yeah?”

“Are you ready to try again?” Oliver questioned. 

Barry nodded slowly, and they started to sway. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on his feet, making sure he didn’t unintentionally step on any toes. 

Oliver let go of his hand to tilt his head up, and Barry found himself staring into his sea blue eyes. “Don’t think on it too much,” he advised. “Just relax, and it’ll be much smoother.”

Barry simply nodded, accepting his advice. He kept his gaze locked on Oliver’s mesmerising eyes, and simply followed the beat as they waltzed around the living room. The beat, Barry realised, that had manifested in the form of  _ Zedd’s Stay the Night. _

_ I know that we are upside down _

_ So hold your tongue and hear me out... _

“Thea,” Oliver answered his unspoken question. “She’s probably doing it on purpose.”

“I think she’s trying to help,” Barry reasoned.

“And is it?”

“Yes, I think it is.” The two danced in silence for a while longer, and aside from a few missteps, Barry was pleased to discover that he wasn’t failing horribly. He had found a rhythm that appealed to him, and it was working exceptionally.

“You’ve picked it up quickly,” Oliver noted.

Barry grinned. “I’m a fast learner. Just didn’t expect to pick up dancing, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Iris always says I’ve got two left feet.”

Oliver’s lips quirked upwards. “Iris is right. Is she your…?”

“My best friend. She’s come home from University for winter break.”

“Ah.” To his credit, Oliver managed to maintain a vaguely interested look at Barry’s story. Barry was certain the billionaire didn’t actually care about anything he had to say. “And what about you?” Oliver asked.

Barry was taken aback by the question. “Me? I graduated from Sun University a few years back.” The pair lapsed into silence for a few seconds, merely dancing to the beat of the song. “What about you?”

“I never bothered to finish," Oliver responded bluntly. "And then I was kicked out. Four times."

“... Oh.”

“It’s okay, you can say what you think.”

“No, I don’t think anything bad of you,” Barry assured him. “It’s not for everyone, and you’re smart enough as it is.”

“You don’t know that,” Oliver said, but he appeared touched by Barry’s statement.

“You  _ do _ run your own business,” Barry pointed out.

“I'm more of a public face. It’s my mother who does most of the stuff.”

“That’s true. But, I think, to bounce back from being stranded on an island for five years to running a business, you’ve done pretty good for yourself.”

“Yeah…” Oliver’s expression softened marginally, something Barry would never have noticed if he wasn’t staring so intently. The hand wrapped around his waist suddenly became more noticeable. He and Oliver slowed their dancing until they were simply swaying to the music, and they slowly gravitated closer towards each other with each passing moment. Closer and closer until…

A loud cough startled Barry away. He peered over Oliver’s shoulder to see Diggle, Thea and an unfamiliar boy in a red hoodie smirking at them. Thea had her left arm wrapped around his waist, and a phone in her right hand. She pressed a button, and the music stopped.

“Dancing go well?” she asked innocently.

“Yes,” Oliver replied instantly with a crooked smile. “I think he’s ready to dance tonight.”

Barry shot them a small, self-deprecating smile. Truth be told, he had only learned how to slow-dance properly without tripping over his own two feet. The rest of the time he had been lost in Oliver’s eyes, which were, to his defence, startlingly fascinating.

“Good!” Thea declared, “Because Raisa’s picked out his suit, like you asked.”

Barry looked up. “My… suit?”

“For tonight,” Diggle replied evenly. “Oliver asked us to pick something out for you.”

Barry stared at them in bewilderment. “He did?”

“I noticed that you didn’t have anything to wear,” Oliver replied. “I have plenty of suits that you could use.”

“Thank you,” Barry said gratefully, before a thought crossed his mind. He had only found out about the party from Felicity. Oliver hadn’t even mentioned it to him until he had basically apologised for his overreaction. “When did you call ahead to get the suit ready?”

“Diggle will show you to one of our guest rooms for you to change,” Oliver said instead, ignoring the question entirely. He glared at the snickering boy in the red hoodie. “Shouldn’t you go home to get changed, Roy?”

The boy, Roy, quietened immediately. Barry didn’t blame him. Oliver’s tone was terrifying. 

“Er…” Roy said. “Yeah… I guess. Who knows, maybe someone had it prepared in advance.” He kissed Thea on the cheek, and retreated before Oliver could kill him with a glare. Confused, Barry allowed himself to be steered out of the living room and up the large grand staircase, leaving the Queen siblings in his wake.

“He called ahead of time to get it all set up,” Diggle said lowly as they reached the landing. “Wanted everything ready before you got here.”

Barry nodded mutely. While grateful for the enlightenment, he wasn’t sure why Diggle was revealing the information to him. Maybe the man pitied him and his confusion. “Why?” he found himself asking.

John led him down the left side of the landing. “Because you’re Felicity’s date, and he wants to keep his friend happy.”

“Oh, of course,” Barry said quietly. Of course that was the reason. Felicity was his friend. It made the most sense, and yet he couldn’t squash the small pang of disappointment.

“Here we are,” Diggle announced, stopping outside a closed door. He turned to Barry. “Your suit’s in there.”

“Thanks,” Barry said gratefully. Diggle nodded curtly, and left him to get acclimated.

Barry pushed the door open and stepped into the room. It was modest, with a queen-sized bed, a cupboard, a bedside mirror and a few decorations. His luggage was parked neatly by the windowsill. A black suit jacket, white shirt, and crimson red tie were hung on a rack, with a pair of black trousers on the bed. Barry absentmindedly ran his hand over the tie. It was a beautiful shade.

With some time to kill before the party, which Oliver had stated was due to begin at six o’clock,  Barry flopped onto the bed and sighed heavily, trying to get his head around it all.

He was going to a party hosted by the  _ Queens. _ A party that was most likely going to be a prestigious event. Barry Allen, C.S.I, at a prestigious event. Iris was going to kill him when he got home.

There was a tentative knock on the door. “Come in,” Barry said. The maid from earlier, Raisa, poked her head through the door. He smiled at her. “Hello.”

Raisa smiled back. “Hello. Does the suit fit?”

“Yes, it does. Thank you.”

The maid nodded. She made to leave, hesitated, and turned back. “Oliver’s a good boy,” she said. “But he is very lost.”

Raisa disappeared before Barry could question her statement.

* * *

 

Half an hour later, Barry was adjusting his red tie when there was another knock on the door. “Come in,” he called out. The door swung open and Laurel walked in.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey. Wow, you look nice.” He gestured to her dress. “I see you’ve decided to ditch the coffee stain.”

“Yeah, it just wasn't working out,” Laurel laughed. “But thank you.” She was dressed in an elegant grey flowing, cap-sleeved dress. “You don't look half-bad yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“Oliver sent me to get you. He’s greeting the guests, Raisa’s gone home, and John has… another commitment.”

“Yeah, erm.” Barry readjusted his tie until he was satisfied and awkwardly raised a hand. “I'm ready.”

“Great. This way.”

The pair walked down the hallway and the staircase, chatting animatedly as they did so. Barry found Laurel to be nice company. Funny, easy to talk to, and friendly. He wondered how anyone could think to hurt her, and mused on the corruption within Star City.

Laurel gently placed a hand on his arm, snapping him out of his musings. They were back in the main living room, which had been adjusted to house the numerous guests. An open bar was situated at the far end of the room. She pointed a pink and yellow blonde amongst the surprisingly dismal crowd, and smiled encouragingly at him. “Enjoy,” she whispered, and walked over to Thea and Roy, the boy from earlier.

Barry walked further into the room, meeting Felicity halfway. “Hi,” they both greeted simultaneously. Felicity laughed, and gave a small wave.

“I haven't learned much about dancing,” he admitted, “but I do know how to slow dance.”

Felicity grinned. “Sold.” She placed her left hand on his shoulder, held onto his hand with her right one, and allowed Barry to slowly steer her around the room to the rhythm of the gentle classical violin music. “Thanks for coming. I usually get pretty lonely at these parties. Well, party. I've only been to one other Queen bash, but it was  _ pretty _ lonely. I'm glad to have a friend with me.”

“You didn't have to come,” he gently pointed out.

“I know, but Oliver’s my friend too and…” she looked around surreptitiously, “don't tell anyone, but I secretly really like coming to these parties.”

Barry chuckled. His eyes drifted towards the bar, and he frowned. Laurel and a blonde woman in a red dress — who Barry suspected was Moira Queen — were standing on either side of an elegant looking woman in a black dress. Her brown hair was parted to one side, obscuring her facial features. They all looked tense. “What's going on?”

Felicity followed his gaze, and quickly snapped her head back. “That's Isabel Rochev. She's like, Oliver’s business partner at Queen Consolidated. Laurel and Moira don't get along with her. I swear, I always worry they'll end up in a bar brawl.”

“Huh.”

Oliver approached the bar, and Isabel quickly left, her expression irritated. Moira moved away to converse with guests, and Laurel shared a quick, agitated discussion with Oliver before she was led away by Thea.

Oliver turned, and his gaze locked onto Barry’s. Barry slowed the waltz, until he stopped completely, and stared. For a while, neither of them spoke. Barry found himself appreciating the fitted black suit that complimented Oliver’s darkening blue eyes. He gulped at the piercing gaze, and felt a flutter in his stomach.

A passing waiter offering him a glass of wine broke Barry’s concentration in the end, and he realised Felicity was no longer by his side. He whipped his head around, locating her next to Laurel and Thea, both laughing at something she said. Felicity turned to him, and he offered her an apologetic smile for ending the dance pre-emptively, but she merely grinned at him. In fact, she looked quite proud.

She  _ definitely  _ knew.

Barry groaned in mortification.

* * *

 

The party soon drew to a close. The guests flitted out one-by-one. Laurel and Felicity stayed behind to bid everyone, Barry included, goodnight. Laurel had a pleasant conversation with Moira — an apology for having to work against her in a trial, which Moira rebuffed instantly — before she left.

Moira then turned to Barry and held out a hand. “You must be Mr. Allen,” she said.

He quickly shook her hand. “Barry, please. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Queen.”

Moira smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “Ms. Queen,” she corrected. “I find myself without the company of a husband these days.”

Barry winced. “I'm sorry.”

“Hmm.” Moira studied him with a critical eye, which made the uncomfortable C.S.I squirm. “Do you know my son well?”

“Oliver? I just met him today.”

“I see.” Moira crossed her arms, and regarded him with a steely look. “He has had many girlfriends over the years.”

“I… see?”

_ "Girlfriends, _ Mr. Allen,” Moira stressed. “I rather think you're chasing a fantasy.”

“I'm sorry?” Barry said in bemusement, but Moira had already walked away and left the confused Barry in her wake.

* * *

 

“Yes, sir, I value my job very much, I — Okay, I will be on the next train. Mhm. Okay, I'll be back tonight.”

There was a knock on the door.

Barry sighed, and rubbed his temples. “Come in.”

“Hey.” Barry turned to see Oliver standing in the doorway. He looked slightly worried, though that could have just been his imagination. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Barry slung a bag over his shoulder. He had changed out of the suit. “I have to get back to Central City if I want to keep my job.”

Oliver winced. “Did I give you away?”

“Well, that's one way he could have found out that I didn't have food poisoning.” Barry wheeled his luggage towards the door. “It's fine. I can catch the last train back home. Er… tell the SCPD that the sedative in the thief’s blood is Ketamine. It's a schedule three controlled substance. Shouldn't be too hard to track.”

“I'll make sure they get it,” Oliver reassured him.

Barry nodded. “It was really nice —” he hesitated. “Thank you for —” he paused. Moira’s words echoed in his head.  _ Chasing a fantasy. _ Maybe she wasn't as confusing as he thought she was.

Oliver was looking at him expectantly. “Barry?”

Barry smiled shyly at him. “I should get going. Your suit’s —”

“Keep it,” Oliver interrupted firmly. “It suits you.”

Barry hoped his blush wasn't too visible. “Thanks.”

Oliver nodded, and turned to the door. He paused at the entryway, his hand on the doorknob. “I was wrong about you and your father,” he said in a small voice. “And… I hope you catch the man you're looking for.”

Barry smiled gratefully. “Bye, Oliver. And thank you.”

Oliver nodded, and left the room. Barry thought, in that moment, that his brief window of time with Oliver had disappeared, and he would return to Central City without anymore fuss, never to see him again.

So, when he woke up in an unfamiliar bunker with the billionaire lying unconscious on a table dressed as the Arrow, with the Black Canary and Diggle surrounding him, and Felicity begging him to help her friend, he was beyond surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought Laurel and Isabel would be interesting foils for each other. Both were betrayed by the men they loved and used fighting as a way to combat that grief, but where Laurel became a hero in the light, Rochev strayed towards the darkness. Also, the thought of Black Canary versus Ravager is an appealing one.
> 
> And the stuff about Oliver giving Barry some formal wear for the party just felt natural. I mean, he came for an investigation for one day and wasn't aware of the party in the first place, where exactly was he going to find a suit on such short notice?
> 
> Barry spilling coffee over Laurel was actually a homage to another Olivarry fic out there called "Pulling the Puzzle Apart" which was sadly never updated. I loved it so much I thought I would pay tribute.
> 
> Also massive thank you for those who have read and commented. You guys are great <3


	4. Three Ghosts - Part One

Barry’s eyes fluttered open. He instantly regretted the choice and squeezed them shut to shield himself from the sharp, bright glare of fluorescent lighting. He inwardly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache.

He tried to recall what had happened. He had arrived at the station, only to learn that he was too late for the train and he would have to wait for the first train back to Central City in the morning. The thought had terrified him — the things Singh could do to him were beyond thought — but he sucked it up, knowing that the situation was out of his control, and hopped his captain understood.

He had settled down for a long evening when he felt a sharp sting in his neck. He hissed in pain, reaching to identify the piercing object, when his vision blurred and he collapsed.

When he tried to remember anything else, his headache flared up. Forcibly fighting his blurring vision, Barry surveyed the strange room. His eyes drifted past an empty mannequin case and a shelf filled with a bow and a variety of arrows, his expression a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

He heard a small cough, and looked straight ahead. His eyes narrowed in full-blown confusion. Lying on a table, dressed in a green outfit belonging to one very distinguishable person, was Oliver Queen.

Oliver Queen, the man who had treated him with suspicion, taught him how to dance, and gifted him a suit. The man with the most amazing eyes Barry had ever seen, and the one he had a blatant crush on, was one and the same with the Arrow, the once-mass murdering vigilante who had appeared to reform in his ways and strove to help those who couldn't. The one he believed had the sheer strength to save his mother had he been around, and another man that he had a crush on.

Barry barely got his racing thoughts in order when Diggle appeared beside the prone billionaire, soon followed by a familiar blonde woman in a black suit. She had her back to him, but he recognised her. The heroic vigilante Black Canary. She turned to him, and sent Barry into another dizzying tailspin. It was Laurel Lance, the woman he had met mere hours ago. The lawyer who fought for the oppressed, always striving for justice for those who believed it, no matter the cost.

Barry’s mind was a minefield of theories and thoughts, ready to explode if provoked. It was the appearance of Felicity that calmed his groggy daze. She looked terrified, desperate. A stark contrast to the withdrawn expressions on Laurel and Diggle’s faces. Her hands were clenched tightly against her chest, and she spoke bluntly, but imploringly.

“Please save my friend.”

Barry rose from his position, his surprised gaze fixed on her worried expression. His eyebrows knitted together in determination. He had work to do.

* * *

 

Barry was certain that the sound of Oliver’s heart monitor beeping erratically would haunt his nightmares for days to come. Oliver convulsed violently, his legs retracting as if he was trying to curl up into a ball. Barry quickly hurried over to Felicity and Diggle, who were both restraining his shuddering body.

“He's not gonna make it,” Diggle said pessimistically.

“He will,” Felicity countered firmly. “We just have to find out what's in his system.”

Barry scratched the back of his head, trying to keep his breathing under control and not freak out over the entire situation. It was too much. He wasn't equipped for situations like this. “I—I… I usually only work on dead people,” he admitted shakily.

_ "Barry!" _ Felicity cried out hysterically, which certainly didn't help his frayed nerves. Barry tried to calm himself, to think rationally, but he kept fumbling and his mind was whizzing as if it was running in a marathon. His thoughts were untamed, his fear of messing up unbridled.

A hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. Barry tilted his head to see Laurel — still in her Black Canary outfit. “Help him,” she implored calmly, although her expression betrayed the visible fear in eyes, “if you can. That's all we ask.”

Her tone soothed his fears somewhat, enough so he was able to think like a scientist. Barry nodded, and turned back to the quivering Oliver. 

“All right, I can think of four possible diagnoses for what's causing his body to react this way.” He shuffled to the other end of the table, plucked a discarded pen light, and examined Oliver’s dilated pupils. “Make that three possible diagnoses.”

Barry dropped the pen light and moved to Felicity’s side. He pressed his fingers to Oliver’s wrist and felt his pulse. It was beating wildly under his fingertips, unnervingly slowly.

“Two,” he continued. “Start chest compressions.” He moved to where Laurel was sat and snatched the metal bowl with a wad of tissue and syringe inside. He briefly noted how well-prepared they were, before returning to the task at hand. 

Diggle had complied and was performing chest compressions, while Felicity’s eyes followed Barry’s every movement desperately.

Barry hurriedly drew a blood sample and examined it. Finally, he reached a conclusion. “Got it. He's suffering from intravenous coagulation.”

Felicity stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“His blood isn't naturally clotting,” Barry explained, trying to ignore the crippling look on fear that flashed across Diggle’s face. “It's like maple syrup.”

“Okay.” Laurel took a long, shaky, breath. “Is there anything you can do? At all?”

“You can save him, right?” Felicity added desperately.

Barry looked between the three, trying to squash the fear and nausea that threatened to spill down his throat. They all looked at him with an optimistic faith, despite the situation, that made him dizzy. If he failed, they wouldn't be the only ones that would be disappointed.

“Barry?” Diggle persisted.

Barry’s eyes drifted to the shelfs, and his face lit up with relief. “Right,” he confirmed, and snatched up a red box filled with rat poison. “Lucky you guys have a rat problem.”

“Are you kidding? That’d kill him!” Diggle protested.

“He dies if I don't!” Barry retorted, already pouring the mixture into a beaker. 

“Felicity,” Diggle hissed, looking at her with wild eyes.

“I—I don't know. Yes. No! Just… maybe.” They both turned to Laurel expectantly.

“Do it,” Laurel commanded immediately. Barry nodded gratefully at her. She knew, he hoped, that he only had the best intentions in mind.

Barry looked over at the unconscious Oliver worriedly, trying to block out the insistent shrill ringing of the heart monitor. He couldn’t just let the man die, especially after they had made  _ some _ progress. “Okay, just the right amount of this stuff will thin his blood enough to get it circulating again.”

He administered the makeshift cure through an IV drip, and took a step back. He scratched the back of his head, praying that his plan worked. Felicity, Laurel and Diggle, who was still continuing the chest compressions, watched with bated breaths.

Oliver’s head lolled to the side, and his heart rate slowly returned to normal. The group of four breathed a collective sigh of relief, and moved away from the patient.

“God, that was close,” Felicity murmured. Diggle nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” Laurel said gratefully. “You saved his life.”

Barry smiled at her. “It was the least I could do.”

* * *

 

Once Oliver was stabilised, the room lapsed into silence. Felicity and Diggle moved to the row of computer terminals and continued their hunt for the centrifuge thief, while Laurel hung back on a chair near Oliver. It was only now that the adrenaline had died down that Barry noticed the cast around her arm.

“Are you okay?” he asked in concern, gesturing towards the cast.

Laurel smiled ruefully. “I just got unlucky in the field.”

Barry grabbed a chair and dragged it closer. He sat down and leaned in earnestly. “What happened?”

Laurel sighed. “The man we were after got the jump on us. He broke my arm and grabbed Oliver by the neck. He was injected with… something. That’s why we came to you. I would have been injected too, but somebody saved me. A blonde in a mask.”

“Who was it?”

Laurel shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Barry nodded along to the story, his eyes wide in amazement. “Wow,” he breathed. “You’re the Black Canary.”

Laurel smiled softly at him. “Yes, I am.”

“My friends’s a  _ huge _ fan. Can I have your autograph?”

Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Barry, fretting over the possibility that he had upset her, immediately backpedalled.

“Not that you can actually give me one. I mean, you’re a vigilante with a secret identity, you can’t mess that up.” A thought crossed his mind. Unable to stave off the excitement, Barry leaned in and whispered, “your use of black as a primary colour for a suit is a good choice.  _ Great _ for urban camouflage.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “I thought so, too.”

Barry leaned back against his chair and chuckled quietly. His eyes drifted to the case filled with the bow and arrows. He admired them from afar, not daring to go closer and touch them like his mind practically begged. He was afraid of the possibility that it was all a fabricated dream  and he would wake up in the train station, but Barry knew, deep down, that he was experiencing something too lucid to be a dream. He had only ever felt it once before, when his mother was murdered. He shook the sombre thoughts aside.

“I  _ knew _ the vigilante had partners,” he murmured proudly.

“He likes to be called the Arrow now,” Diggle corrected.

“You three have messed with some really nasty people.” Barry finally gave in to his temptation and wheeled over to the bow, gently pressing his fingertips against the cool metal. He savoured the moment, revelling in the absurdity of it, before turning back to the small group. “I mean, the Dollmaker, Count Vertigo,  _ Dodger _ — though I hear he’s back in business.”

“Great,” Laurel said dryly, “if he calls me ‘luv’ one more time, I’m going to kick his ass.”

Barry spun around to face her. “And you!” He wheeled closer giddily. “You’ve been fighting longer than the others. Martin Somers, Fay Moffit, Pistolera, Constantine Drakon, the Triad…” His eyes lit up with glee. “The Huntress!”

Laurel winced at the mention of the Huntress. Barry immediately quietened, and looked away shyly. Clearly there was history between the two that he was unaware of.

“We weren’t keeping score,” Diggle said.

Barry grinned bashfully. “I was.”

“I’m impressed,” Laurel said. She watched Barry as he wheeled over to Oliver with a brown patch. “And honoured. I didn’t really expect people would admire us from somewhere like Central City.”

Barry looked over at her shyly, and admitted, “I— _ we _ have a blog on you and your activities, me and Iris — I hope you don’t mind.”

Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Barry said sheepishly. His expression quickly turned curious. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Laurel leaned her functioning arm against the table. “Shoot.”

“Why did you become Black Canary?”

The question seemed to evoke a deeper emotion in Laurel. Her expression, while thoughtful, shone with grief. She leaned further against the table, bringing her hand to rest on her chin, and hummed. “Emily Nocenti.”

Barry wracked his brain. “I’ve heard of her,” he said, but he couldn’t place the name to a face.

“She was the daughter of Victor Nocenti, a dock worker. He was Somers’ victim because he discovered the drug smuggling operation Somers was running. Emily came to me, back in 2011, to bring justice for her father. But the Triad came for us. I managed to fend them off until my dad got there, but Emily… they killed her, and Somers was released without charge.” 

Laurel’s fist clenched tightly on the table, and her face contorted in anger. 

“I couldn’t help her. Maybe if Oliver had been around, things might have turned out differently. But... as it stands, her death was on me. I swore that nobody else would ever have to live in fear because of the corruption of the law. I swore that they would never have to be overlooked again. And so, with time, I became… this,” she gestured towards her baton holstered into a stand beside the empty mannequin one, “the Black Canary.”

“Always trying to save the world,” Barry murmured in realisation. “That’s what Oliver said.”

Laurel smiled sombrely. “It’s been a goal since childhood.”

Barry stared at her in awe. He was in a room mainly full of people who strove to make the world a better place, not by eliminating their enemies, but by bringing them to justice. He couldn’t help but admire that. 

He looked down at Oliver, the only person in the room originally renowned for ruthlessly eradicating those he deemed enemies, and was stunned to find the vigilante awake and glaring daggers at him. Before he could react further, the billionaire grabbed him by the throat and applied pressure, blocking off the oxygen struggling to reach his airways. He choked, and tried to call out for help.

“Oliver!” Laurel was by Barry’s side in an instant, her eyes ablaze with surprise and worry. She forcibly wrenched Oliver’s hand away. Diggle and Felicity immediately rushed over, speaking to Oliver in soothing tones while Barry stumbled into the table behind him, spluttering and gasping for air.

“What the hell’s going on?” Oliver demanded. He leapt off the table and stumbled, disorientated, collapsing into Laurel’s side.

“You were injected with a strong active blood coagulant,” Felicity explained calmly, gripping his arm, both to reassure and support him.

“You would have stroked out,” Barry said between coughs, “but fortunately you had a very effective blood thinner handy.” Oliver glared at him angrily, prompting Barry to duck his head. “Warfarin — better known as rat poison.”

“The kid saved your life, Oliver,” Diggle said gruffly. Barry felt a small smile tug his lips upwards at the defence.

“This is the point of the life saving emergency where you thank the person who did the life saving,” Felicity supplied.

Oliver breathed heavily, still catching his breath, and turned to Felicity. “You told him who I am,” he said, his tone laced with hurt, as if he had been physically struck and betrayed.

“Yeah, I did,” Felicity said coolly.

Oliver was quiet for a second. “That’s not your secret to tell, Felicity,” he said softly, sounding vexed. _ "I _ decide who finds out my identity.”

Felicity crossed the room incredulously. “Well, we didn’t have time to get your vote,” she countered, “what with you unconscious and  _ dying." _

“What happens if he leaves here and goes right to the police?” Oliver demanded.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Er, I wouldn’t do that,” Barry agreed soothingly, using the voice he had seen Joe use a million times to calm a trigger-happy hooligan.

“I trust him,” Felicity continued. Barry felt a swell of happiness burst in his chest.

“I don’t,” Oliver said roughly. Barry’s face fell, crestfallen. It was stupid, really. He had only known Oliver for a few hours, which wasn’t enough to warrant trust, but he couldn’t help but feel a sting of sadness, especially now that he knew two of his crushes were actually the same person.  He looked around the room, desperately finding the motivation to uphold a calm facade. Laurel noticed and shot him a sympathetic smile.

“What are you going to do, put an arrow in him?!” Felicity demanded, her tone growing more heated.

“I am considering it,” Oliver replied bluntly, glaring in the C.S.I’s direction. Barry flinched, and crossed his arms defensively, his eyes firmly on the ground to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

“Don’t worry, he’s kidding!” Felicity retorted. She must have noticed how upset he was, because she glared at Oliver, her expression irate. “How is this any different to when your mother shot you and you came to me for help?”

Barry’s eyes widened in alarm. “Your mother...  _ shot _ you?”

Oliver raised a finger in warning, but Felicity continued her rant before he could speak.

“Or when you brought Dig down here when he was poisoned with curare? Or when Laurel was injected with vertigo?”

“Well the difference is, I did my homework on both of you,” Oliver snapped. Barry could have sworn that he’d seen a vein throb. “And I have known Laurel my whole life. I don’t just tell people easily!”

The anger slowly dissolved from Felicity’s expression, replaced by a more withdrawn look. Barry felt a protective inclination towards his new friend, and stepped up.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell _ anyone. _ And you don’t have to thank me, but you should thank her instead of being kind of a jerk.” Oliver rounded on him, stalking menacingly towards him with an intimidating leer. Barry tensed, and hastily added, “Mr Queen.”

Barry gulped and looked down, trying to ignore the resurfacing hurt due to Oliver’s close proximity. He heard Oliver’s breath soften, but didn’t look up. There was a beep, and Oliver reached over to pick up a phone. It was only then that Barry mustered up the courage to look up.

“I have to go home,” Oliver sighed heavily. “The man that we fought in the bunker — he has what he needs to mass-produce the serum from the island.” He turned to Laurel. “And _ we _ have to stop him.” Oliver exhaled once more, and brushed past Barry. Barry tried to ignore the tingling sensation that shot up his spine at the touch, and looked towards the morose Felicity and Diggle.

“Don’t worry,” Laurel spoke up, “I’ll talk to him."

There was a sudden beep, like a notification. Barry turned to see Laurel staring down at her phone as she walked to another room, possibly to change out of her outfit, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You’d think he’d at least show some gratitude,” Felicity muttered snidely. She returned to her computer, presumably to run a scan for their mysterious thief. Barry’s expression was fixed on the room Oliver had walked into. He looked down at the brown strip in his hands, his expression thoughtful.

Eventually coming to a decision, he crossed the strange bunker and stood hesitantly by the door Oliver had stalked into. The door was slightly pitiful; it was a square arch covered by a drape. He guessed that they hadn’t worked much on renovating since starting their crusade.

“What?” Oliver demanded gruffly, seemingly sensing his presence, which caught Barry off guard. Taking that as an invitation, he gingerly pulled the drape aside and ducked in.

“Oh.” Barry looked around in surprise. The room was larger than the cubby that he had expected. There were metal pipes running along the ceiling, an open brown oak dresser, and a small bed tucked in the corner. Oliver stood in the middle of the room, his hood peeled off, with his chest on full display. “Oh,” Barry repeated again, quietly, as he felt his throat go dry. The firm muscle was attractive, yes, but what compelled him the most were the deep scars that lined his body. He hadn’t noticed them before; he was too distracted trying to keep Oliver alive, but now that saw them, he found himself paralysed by the sight.

“Barry,” Oliver grunted, jolting the younger man out of his reverie. “What do you want?”

“Hm?” Barry tilted his head forward in puzzlement, before his brain caught up to him and his eyes widened comically. “Oh. Er, he touched your skin when he grabbed your neck.” He pointed awkwardly at Oliver’s neck. “I can absorb the residual oils from his skin, and then I might able to recreate his fingerprints.”

Oliver’s expression hardened, and he nodded curtly, stalking closer to Barry until he could feel the man’s breath. “What?” he growled when Barry scoffed in disbelief.

“Nothing.” Barry applied the strip to his neck. “Look, Oliver, I get it.”

“Do you?” Oliver questioned incredulously.

“Of course I do.” Barry stared straight into Oliver’s eyes, his green eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re a _ vigilante. _ In your line of work, you always keep an eye out. You’re always careful. And I’m — well, I’m nothing to you.”

“You’re not—” Oliver took a breath. “You’re not _ nothing." _

Barry waved the flattering admission away dismissively. “You know what I mean. I’ve only been here for five seconds. And…” he looked down at the scars sadly, “you have a right to be cautious.” His fingers brushed over the scars tentatively. He felt Oliver shiver, but chalked it up to the distressingly low room temperature.

“Barry.”

Barry looked up hopefully. “Yeah?”

“I have to go home,” Oliver reminded him brusquely. “Any chance you could hurry it up?”

“Oh. Right.” Barry tried to conceal his disappointment as he pulled the plaster strip away. He had _ hoped _ for a form of an apology, akin to the one Oliver had given back in Queen Consolidated at the very least. “When I add this to a gel-based polymer, I might be able to recreate his fingerprints.”

Oliver nodded. “I’m going to get changed now.”

“Mhm. I’ll just… I’ll leave you to it.” Barry waited until Oliver turned his back before he left. He cast one last look at the scars, and wondered if the progress he thought he made with the billionaire had been nothing but a ruse.

* * *

 

Oliver limped out the backdoor of Verdant and into the alleyway to find Laurel waiting for him, her arm crossed over her cast and her expression stern.

He sighed exasperatedly and walked past her. “Laurel, I’m not in the mood for an argument.”

“Well, good, because I’m not here for one,” Laurel responded dryly, matching his steps evenly.

“Are you here to tell me that what I did was uncalled for? Because I’ve already got that message loud and clear.”

“That’s not what this is about, Ollie,” Laurel said softly. She slowed her pace, and after a beat, so did Oliver. “I know it hurts to let people in.”

“Do you?” Oliver muttered. While Laurel had been operating as the Black Canary for a year longer than him, Oliver doubted that she had to endure the sharp sting of betrayal during her crusade, and experience the paranoia that came with it, the doubt, the fear of letting someone in only to find out they had a knife poised to strike at any given moment.

“Yes,” Laurel said with conviction. “I never said I experienced it myself, _ but _ I can see the effect it’s had on you.”

She lapsed into silence, leaving her statement hanging in the air. Oliver considered it. That was what he loved about Laurel. Once she was able to let go of her stubborn streak, she would always give him the space he needed. She knew that he was damaged, possibly because she was the same. Oliver had only heard snippets of her first year as the Black Canary, but from what he gathered, it hadn't been easy. And yet she held onto her beliefs, her optimism, her _ light. _ It was inspiring.

Felicity was a good friend, but she had never had the misfortune of enduring excruciating pain, both physically and mentally, and that sparked a disconnect between them. John was possibly the one who understood him the most, having served in the military, and even then he was often so consumed in his vengeance that he didn't spare Oliver the time of day, something the bow-wielding vigilante had once been guilty of. But Oliver had begun the process of transforming his grief into an attempt to create a passionate drive to show compassion to his family, friends and his enemies, to a lesser extent; Diggle remained trapped in his rut of weaponising his grief into a thirst for revenge.

He sighed wearily, and turned to Laurel. “You think I should trust him.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” Laurel clarified gently. “He _ did _ save your life.”

“It wouldn't be the first time one of my enemies did that,” Oliver muttered ruefully, casting his mind back to Amanda Waller snatching him from Lian Yu, not in an act of benevolence, but to further her own personal schemes, with Oliver as her pawn.

“Still, his story checks out,” Laurel persisted. “And Diggle has his eye on him.”

Oliver looked at her carefully. “Why do you trust him?”

“Honestly? I don’t really know,” Laurel exhaled a long, sharp breath. “But Ollie, he seems solid.  _ Stable." _

Oliver pursed his lips at the subtle, unwanted reminder of Helena Bertinelli. Laurel noticed this, and linked their hands together. She smiled when Oliver looked down at her, his expression unreadable.

“And _ if _ your worries turn out to be correct, we could always beat him up,” she suggested. Oliver smiled at the thought and, tightening his grip on her hand, pulled her closer to him.

“I’ve missed you, Laurel,” he said softly.

Laurel playfully rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ollie. I’ll drive you home.” She pulled him down the alleyway to her car. Oliver smiled when she wasn’t looking. He was terribly fond of Laurel, she was one of his longest-standing friends, and while her judgement had been questionable at times in the past, it was usually disturbingly accurate.

If  _ she _ believed in Barry, Oliver supposed he would have to as well.

"By the way," Laurel raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Thea tells me that Roy's been shot with an arrow. You want to explain?"

* * *

 

After a tense phone call to Iris to lie about why he wasn’t back in Central City as promised, Barry found himself stood in front of the bow case. Despite his newfound reservations about his changing acquaintanceship with Oliver, he still found himself awed by the man’s devotion to protecting his city, even when the city didn’t look favourably upon him.

“Wow,” he huffed in disbelief. _ "Vigilantes." _

“You got a problem with that, Barry?” Diggle asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No!” Barry reassured him, mostly because it was true, partly because he didn’t want an arrow through his chest. “No, I think it’s great. It’s just… vigilantes. You don’t really hear much about them these days.”

“What do you mean?” Felicity furrowed her brow. “Have there been other vigilantes?”

“Oh, yeah!” Barry nodded vigorously, his enthusiasm leaking into his tone. “There’s the Wild Cat, Black Canary, obviously, and… oh!” His eyes lit up. “The JSA!”

“What’s the JSA?”

“The Justice Society of America.” The familiar voice made Barry, Felicity and Diggle focus their attention on Laurel, who trotted down the staircase. “They were a group of secret heroes from the forties.”

“If they’re so secret, how do you know about them?” Felicity questioned curiously.

Laurel plopped down into a chair with a sigh, keeping her wrapped arm levelled. “Mum,” she explained, “she heard stories from her old babysitter, Todd Rice. I never found out how he knew, mum was pretty quiet on that.”

“Huh.” Felicity tilted her head in consideration. “What about you, Barry?”

Barry shifted slightly in embarrassment. “I was looking up conspiracy theories,” he mumbled. At their incredulous expressions, he hastily added, “I was ill and I had nothing else to do!”

“Barry!” Oliver stormed down the stairs and approached him, his tone serious. Barry’s jaw dropped at the sight of him. Not only was he attractive, but he was walking flawlessly, as if he hadn’t been injected with poison a few hours ago. “The rat poison that you gave me — are there any side effects?”

Barry merely stared at him, finding it difficult to process thoughts at the close proximity. Oliver inhaled sharply, and Barry quickly closed his eyes in mortification, his brain whirring to collate the relevant information. “Er, y—yeah, I think… hallucinations, maybe? And excessive sweating!” He peered closely at Oliver, who turned his head away, looking distressed. “Are you sweating excessively?”

“Are you hallucinating?” Felicity asked in concern, placing a calming hand on his arm. “What do you see?”

Oliver opened his mouth, but Laurel quickly interjected with, “A friend.”

“A girl named Shado that was with me on the island,” Oliver added, shooting a grateful glance towards Laurel.

Delighted, Barry pushed past Felicity and beamed at Oliver. “Wait, you _ did _ train in a jungle or forest environment, hence the green!”

Oliver closed his eyes in exasperation before fixing a steely glare in Barry’s direction, who noted the tense silence and inhaled sharply.

“Here, let me draw some blood,” he suggested, pointing towards the makeshift table Felicity and Diggle had set up for him, “see what’s up.” He glanced back at Oliver as he led the way to the table, his curiosity piqued. “Hey, can I ask you something? Why no mask?”

He sat down, picked up a swab, and grinned at Oliver. The billionaire simply stuck out his arm, his fist closed, and his expression stony. Barry caught himself almost leaning into the touch, before he corrected himself, and grabbed hold of the other man’s arm, busying himself with preparing Oliver for the injection and babbling to hide his embarrassment.

“I mean, not to tell you how to do your vigilante...ing,” Barry paused to grab a syringe, “but the grease paint thing? It’s a poor identity concealer.” As gently as he could, he stuck the needle into Oliver’s arm, who didn’t even flinch. Barry both admired and envied that. He often squirmed at the thought of injections.

“Oh, I’m always telling him that,” Laurel supplied, raising her hand to draw attention to herself. Oliver glared at her, but Laurel simply grinned, unfazed. She was sat next to Felicity, and the pair were eyeing a page about a blood drive of some sort, though Barry didn’t really understand it.

“So, find me a mask that conforms perfectly to my face and doesn’t affect my ability to aim while I’m on the run,” Oliver said tersely, refocusing on Barry.

“You should look into a compressible micro-fabric,” Barry replied enthusiastically. “Like Laurel’s. It could be great.”

A computer monitor beeped. There was a whir of wheels, and Felicity announced, “I found Cyrus Gold.”

Oliver and Barry shared another meaningful glance, before Oliver turned towards his team, ready for business. Barry busied himself with the blood test sample, trying to figure out where he stood with Oliver. It was frustratingly complicated. One minute, they're able to have a civil conversation but suddenly hostile the next. It confused him, and the last thing Barry wanted in his life was confusion. He craved clarity, enlightenment, something that would prevent him from tearing his hair out.

Barry looked up just in time to see Oliver and Diggle leave to do some investigation into Cyrus Gold. He sighed and turned back to the worried Felicity. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll figure out what’s wrong with Oliver.” 

“You’d be the first,” Felicity quipped. Barry smiled. Oliver Queen was certainly mysterious. He seemed to fight a struggle, both internally and externally, that he refused to share with his friends. He bore a burden he felt nobody else would understand. Barry understood that more than most. 

He looked down at the blood sample with renewed vigour. He was done flip-flopping over Oliver’s abrasiveness, and was ready to treat him like he treated everyone else — like a _ friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode five marks the end of the "prologue" arc, so to speak, so we're almost at the setup for the Flash Season One stage. I can only thank you all for being as patient as you have been.
> 
> As you've seen, we've got more insight into Laurel's beginnings as Black Canary in this story. Emily Nocenti and the Triad are not the full story, and I'd love to write a prequel story about her rise from vigilante to hero if you guys are interested in that.
> 
> As for Oliver and Barry, they're on a slow burn, but don't worry, I have a very clear endgame in sight for them, once I think you will all like. It'll just take a few steps to get them to that stage, with a couple of twists along the way. I'm loving this story so far, and loving the support you guys are giving me.
> 
> I'm looking for a beta-reader to check over storylines and chapters with to prevent any major spelling or plot errors, so if any of you are interested, feel free to drop a message and we can chat on my Tumblr!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you've had a Merry Christmas, or happy holiday for those who don't celebrate it.


	5. Three Ghosts - Part Two

Barry scoured the makeshift lair for the necessary supplies he needed for his concoction and hid himself on his little table, away from Felicity and Laurel, busying himself with the task at hand. He was stirring a green liquid, briefly imagining the look on Oliver’s face when he eventually saw the gift, when Felicity approached him and broke his gleeful reverie.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

“Er, just messing around with something,” he said, placing the beaker filled with the liquid atop a heated gauze pad. He took his safety goggles off and redirected his attention to Felicity, who plopped down onto the chair next to him. He looked around for the other woman in the cave, and frowned thoughtfully. “Hey, where’s Laurel?”

“She’s gone to work,” Felicity replied.

Barry’s eyes widened. “With a broken arm?”

“Yup. You try stopping her when she’s got her sights on something,” Felicity grinned distractedly. “Hey, shouldn’t you be trying to figure out what’s causing Oliver’s hallucinations?”

“The sample’s still being scanned,” he revealed, pointing at the computer beside him, “It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Good,” Felicity said happily. Barry studied her carefully, picking out the telltale signs of anxiety in her expression.

“You’re really worried about him, huh?” Barry asked. Felicity’s eyes briefly lit up with surprise, her lips quickly parted, as if she was ready to dispute his question, before reconsidering.

“He takes crazy chances,” she said instead, “and he keeps pushing his friends away when all we want to do is help.”

Barry smiled at that. “The other night, I asked you if you liked Oliver?”

“I told you, I don’t,” Felicity interjected firmly.

“I remember,” Barry smiled, “but  _ if _ you did, I could see why.” He laughed breathlessly. “I mean, Oliver Queen — he’s a billionaire by day, and saves the city by night.”

Felicity laughed at his exuberance. “Sounds like you wanna date him,” she pointed out teasingly.

Barry chuckled wistfully at the thought. Dating Oliver wasn’t the worst idea in the world, but their relationship shifted so constantly in such a short space of time he didn’t know how they would ever work in the long-term. Barry leaned back, and found himself mulling on the words of Moira Queen. No matter how hard he tried to focus on something —  _ anything _ — else, they persistently clung on to the forefront of his mind, like a ghostly whisper. _ 'Girlfriends, Mr. Allen. I rather think you’re chasing a fantasy.’ _

Barry internally sighed. He didn't know why the words affected him so much. It wasn’t as if he would see Oliver again after he left Star City to go home. But even still...

He spun in his chair contemplatively, mulling over Felicity’s words, while she just sat patiently with him, lost in her own thoughts.

* * *

 

_ "Protests continue into the final countdown for tonight’s ignition of STAR Labs’ controversial particle accelerator. STAR Labs founder Harrison Wells promises a new era of scientific advancement is at hand." _

“Guess I won’t be back in time to see them turn it on,” Barry said wistfully. He had vacated his designated table in favour of occupying the spare seat on Felicity’s desk, keeping the blonde company as she ran a tracer program through a software. She paused, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Barry smiled gratefully at her, and changed the subject, “So, any plans for Christmas?”

Felicity leaned back in her chair, spun around aimlessly, and twirled a lock of her hair. “Lighting my menorah,” she replied glibly with a smile.

“Hey.”

Barry looked up to see Oliver approach the desk with purposeful strides. His eyes briefly widened in surprise at the sight of the billionaire in casual clothes, but he quickly schooled his features when the man reached them. Oliver’s eyes darted over him, a gesture that Barry noticed, but didn’t comment on.

“Hey,” Felicity greeted warmly. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Oliver replied evenly. “Just… it’s a little bit crowded at my house, and I… wanted to come down here to get a little privacy.”

Barry glanced over at the computer, and checked the progress bar of Oliver’s blood test analysis. It was almost completed, to his relief.

“Come on, Barry,” Felicity said, catching his attention. “We can watch the countdown at Big Belly Burger.”

His stomach growled involuntarily at the mention of Big Belly Burger. Barry pushed himself out of the chair eagerly, and turned to Oliver. “Your blood analysis is almost done,” he said simply.

“Thank you,” Oliver said quietly as he passed. Barry accepted the admission, and smiled slightly as he walked up a set of steps with Felicity, grabbing his coat and slipping it on along the way. Oliver’s civil attitude emboldened Barry’s hopes to befriend him, and his attempts didn’t feel as fruitless as he quietly feared they would be.

Felicity led him through a steel door, making sure to close it behind her, and into a large warehouse. Rows of stacked chairs provided haphazard obstacles that they had to maneuver around, with tables covered in white cloth stacked in the corners of the room. 

Barry’s fingers wrapped around the red banister of a staircase, his eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes darted around the freshly mopped floor, and the large bar on the other side of the warehouse. The thick stench of alcohol lingered in the air, and sunlight streamed in through large square windows.

“A bar?” he murmured incredulously. “Your secret hideout… is in a  _ bar?" _

“Yeah,” Felicity grinned. “Well, it’s a club, actually. Cool, right?”

“It’s… an unorthodox choice,” Barry conceded as they both headed for the front doors.

“Yeah, but it’s been surprisingly efficient, and secure. Nobody’s broken in yet.”

“Really?” he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes!” Felicity exclaimed. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Honestly? Yes,” Barry admitted truthfully. He could only smile bashfully when Felicity sighed in resignation. Any further conversations she might have had were lost when she opened the doors and crashed straight into a blonde girl.

“What the  _ hell?" _ the girl shrieked, jerking back in surprise. She was youthful looking, probably early twenties, with light blonde hair and wide brown eyes filled with alarm. She pointed at them with the sleeve of her oversized grey cardigan. “Who the hell are you?”

Barry froze instantly, baffled by the turn of events. He chanced a glance in Felicity’s general direction, who appeared just as nonplussed, but there was a flicker of recognition and uneasiness in her eyes.

“I  _ said," _ the girl began angrily, “who are you?”

“No one,” Felicity squeaked.

The girl stared at her. “No one?” she repeated vacantly.

“Yeah!” Felicity said enthusiastically. Barry glanced over at her through his periphery. Why was she so nervous? She must have landed herself in similar situations before, working for the Arrow. “Well, not _ no one _ exactly. I’m a friend of Oliver!” she paused, “Queen,” she added, as an afterthought.

“So?” The girl stepped forward and towered over Felicity intimidatingly — she was a good few inches taller, even with Felicity’s heels — and narrowed her eyes. “How did you get in?”

Felicity blinked. “Er, good question...”

The girl’s eyes shone with irritation, and she crossed her arms, perplexed. “Just tell me who you are!”

“Cissie!”

Barry, Felicity and the girl — Cissie — turned to the source of the noise. Thea Queen was approaching them, with a black-haired girl in a leather jacket trailing behind.

“What—what’s going on?” Thea asked as soon as she caught up to the group. 

“Ask them!” Cissie jabbed a thumb in their direction. “They’re the ones who broke in!”

“What?!”

“Woah, respect,” the black-haired girl in the leather jacket snorted.

“Shut up.” Thea’s eyes scanned the three, scrutinising, and stopped when she noticed the C.S.I, still hiding in the doorway. “Hi, Barry.”

“Hey,” Barry waved absently.

“What, you know them?” Cissie demanded. She seemed uncharacteristically enraged by the revelation.

“Yeah, Barry was at my mum’s party last night. And hello,” she gestured towards the blonde hacker, “it’s  _ Felicity, _ remember?” 

Cissie’s eyes widened fractionally, and she turned to Felicity again, realisation dawning on her expression. “Oh,” she breathed, before crossing her arms defensively. “She should have just said!”

“She’s right,” Felicity spoke up quickly. “I should have just told her my name.”

_ "See? _ She was inside the club, what was I supposed to think?”

Thea sighed in resignation. “Alright, Cissie, how about you make a start on getting tables set up? Sin will help,” she placed a hand on the leather-jacketed girl’s shoulder.

Cissie bit her lip, nodded, and pushed past Barry. Sin stuffed her hands in her pockets and followed her, raising her eyebrows at Barry in greeting as she walked past. The tense atmosphere dissipated immediately, and Felicity sighed in relief, which didn't go unnoticed by Thea.

“Sorry about her,” Thea apologised. “She’s just… having a really tough time of it right now.”

“No, it’s fine,” Felicity quickly reassured her. “I should have answered her question, but I just sort of… froze up.”

“Happens a lot, I guess.” Thea narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What were you two doing here anyway?”

“Er, that was my fault,” Barry blurted out. Felicity and Thea both turned to him, and his mind raced to think of a plausible excuse. He coughed, and scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly. “I wanted to see the good clubs around the city. Felicity suggested this place,” he turned, and gestured to the wide doors.

“Right,” Thea said. She turned to Felicity, still looking unconvinced. “You don’t really look like the partying type.”

“You're right!” Felicity agreed earnestly. “I'm not, but Oliver suggested Verdant, probably cause it's a family company and all.”

Thea nodded slowly. “Right. Makes sense, seeing as you got in without the key.”

“Right?” Felicity probably aimed for an agreeing tone, but her statement sounded more like a question. Thea spared a peculiar look.

“Hey, what was Roy doing in there?”

“Roy?” Felicity repeated, sharing a confused look with Barry. “Harper? He wasn't in there.”

Thea stiffened, as if her assumption held more consequence and gravitas that neither Barry nor Felicity were actively aware of. “What?! But —”

“Thea!” Sin poked her head out the doorway, looking mildly distressed. “He's not here!”

Thea cursed lowly under her breath. Barry could see the tension in her shoulders. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine, I just… I've gotta go,” she gestured for Sin to follow her. The pair quickly hurried away from the club, disappearing around the corner.

Barry looked at Felicity. “What was that about?”

“Who knows,” Felicity shrugged. “I'm sure it's nothing. From what I hear from Laurel, Roy has a habit of going AWOL.” She waved a dismissive hand, but Barry could still see the underlying worry in her expression. “Come on, let's head to Big Belly Burger. I'm starving.”

Barry's stomach rumbled loudly in agreement. He scratched the back of his head while Felicity chuckled fondly. The two started walking at a brisk pace, moving away from the club and down a dirty street. Barry looked around with a wince. Grime and litter polluted the sidewalk, and haggard civilians stumbled around, seeking warmth and shelter. It was a horrifying sight, one that he had never really seen in Central City.

“The Glades,” Felicity divulged. She must have seen his troubled expression. “Believe it or not, it used to be slightly better than this.”

Barry’s eyes scanned the area doubtfully. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said it so sadly that Barry felt his doubt morph into sympathy. She scuffed the ground with her heel and looked at him through the corner of her eye. “You know Cissie?”

“How could I not? I only met her a few minutes ago,” Barry ruminated.

“Yeah, well, her father was an investigative journalist. A pretty popular one at that, too. Bernell King-Jones.”

Barry blinked. “No _ way," _ he breathed in awe. He had not only heard of the journalist, but was lucky enough to watch him collaborate with the Central City Police Department to apprehend a child trafficker.

“Yup, pretty cool, right?” Felicity smiled solemnly. “He was a good man, devoted journalist, and a loving dad, apparently, but…” she sighed, “he died a couple months back, during the Undertaking.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Barry responded. “Malcolm Merlyn used an earthquake machine to level the Glades, right?”

“Correct. He died while working on an expose with the homeless, hoping to spread awareness,” Felicity scoffed at the irony of it all. “Crushed by a building. His name was on the list of the dead. Cissie was crushed — sorry, poor choice of words — she didn’t take it well when she found out. His name was pretty high on the list of the dead. And today’s his birthday, which is why she was so…” Felicity made a clawing gesture with her hand, “yeah.”

Barry silently processed the information. It was a lot to soak in. He looked at Felicity curiously. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m a researcher, it’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “At least I thought I was. I saw Bernell that day, when I was coming back from the police station —  _ long _ story — but I didn’t say anything to him. Didn’t even try to warn him, see, because I was so confident that we would win. I put so much faith in our abilities and when we lost,”  she sighed, “I couldn’t handle it. I’m the reason Cissie lost her dad. I try to make up for it by keeping tabs on her through Laurel and Thea, who both know her somehow. That’s how I knew her, and she didn't know me, though I’ve been mentioned a few times, apparently.”

“You don’t have to, keep tabs, I mean,” Barry pointed out, but he was impressed by Felicity’s selflessness.

“I know, but Oliver can’t shoulder all the blame for the Undertaking,” she grinned wanly. “Some of it’s my fault too.”

Barry offered her a small consoling smile, not entirely sure how he could comfort her. It seemed he didn’t have to. Felicity soon broke out of her rut and strode down the street with renewed vigour, though Barry suspected that she was simply trying to run away from her problems. He smiled sadly at that. Running away from problems was something that he excelled at.

* * *

 

After collecting their meal from Big Belly Burger (where they had debated the intricacies of the particle accelerator at great detail), Barry and Felicity returned to Verdant, laughing at an anecdote Felicity shared about her stay at space camp when she was a child. They made it into the secret underground lair, and froze, the sedate atmosphere instantly dissolving the moment they laid their eyes on the mess.

Millions of fragmented glass shards littered the floor, which Oliver slowly cleared up with a broom, a mannequin display lay broken by his feet, and Diggle flipped an overturned table over. Barry stared at the wreck momentarily, before following a panicked Felicity.

“What happened in here?” she asked. “Did someone break in?”

Barry sighed at the irony of the thought. They had only discussed the security of their base of operations about half an hour ago.

“No,” Oliver replied curtly, but didn’t elaborate. Almost immediately, the computer beeped, catching Barry’s attention. He set the drink tray down and glanced over it.

“Er, your blood analysis is done,” he called out. He sat on a chair and scanned the readings with a furrowed brow. “Good news.”

“So, you know what’s in my system?” Oliver asked hopefully.

“Er, but — that’s the thing. Your blood’s clean,” Barry stuttered. “There’s nothing wrong with you?"

“Then why am I hallucinating?!” Oliver snapped angrily, clearly disliking his response.

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted. “I mean, whatever your problem is, it’s not pharmacological, it’s psychological. It’s in your head.”

“It’s in my head,” Oliver said simultaneously with Barry. He grunted, looking dissatisfied with the revelation.

“Oh, my god,” Felicity breathed. Barry turned to see her staring down at her phone in distress. “Oliver, it’s Detective Lance.”

Oliver tensed. “What about him?”

“Text from Laurel. He’s in the ICU. Apparently, he was badly injured in a scuffle with our jumped up centrifuge stealing friend. Well, I say friend...”

Oliver closed his eyes. “Is Laurel alright?”

Barry noticed how that was Oliver’s first question. He was obviously worried about Lance — and perhaps that was a brief flash of guilt Barry had seen cross his expression — but Laurel was his priority. It reminded Barry of his previous observation; Oliver and Laurel had a deep history together, and his curiosity was piqued once again.

“There’s more,” Felicity said solemnly, jolting Barry from his thoughts. “His team, the one he went into the warehouse with to fight Cyrus Gold, they’re all dead. All of them,  _ including _ Lucas Hilton.”

The atmosphere appeared to grow dour by the revelation. Oliver screwed his eyes shut, Diggle bowed his head in respect, and Felicity looked a little upset. Barry looked between them in question, wanting to ask who Lucas Hilton was, but not quite finding the courage to actually go through with it.

“I need to go see them,” Oliver said firmly, turning to walk away. There was an air around him, a steady aura charged with an emotion that Barry couldn’t decipher, but simultaneously filled him with dread and awe. Oliver picked up his crumpled suit from the ground, retrieved a boot from under a broken display frame, and turned to walk away.

“Oliver,” Barry spoke up, before he knew what he was doing. Oliver skidded to a halt, and turned to look at him expectantly. Barry shuffled awkwardly, uncomfortable and flustered under the piercing gaze. He coughed to relieve his suddenly dry throat, and said, “can I come with you? I want to see Laurel,” he added as an afterthought.

“Barry, I was going to go as the Arrow,” Oliver said shortly, holding up the bundle of clothes to further his point.

“I know, but…” Barry looked at him pleadingly. It wasn’t even like he wanted to spend more time with Oliver, he just wanted to see Laurel, who was kind to him from the moment they’d met, who took their embarrassing encounter in her stride and befriended him despite that. The woman who went out at night to defend her city as the Black Canary, a hero who had made herself known across America. He had only known her so briefly and yet, like Felicity, he had been endeared by her. He sighed, and said,. “... please?”

Oliver’s mouth pressed into a thin line. For a long time, he said nothing, and Barry was beginning to think his request was going to be rebuffed, until Oliver very quietly, and very gruffly, grunted, “Fine.” He deposited his suit in Diggle’s waiting hands, and turned on his heels, stalking across the room without a second glance back.

Barry remained rooted to the spot, hesitant. It was only when he caught Felicity’s encouraging nod that he mustered the courage to follow the billionaire vigilante.

Oliver led them through a secondary exit at the back of the lair, up a flight of stairs and into a secluded hallway in the night club. Barry could hear the clattering of glasses and the sound of shuffling footsteps in the corridor beyond. Oliver tapped his shoulder, and briskly walked through a door. Barry followed, and looked around in surprise. 

They were in a mostly empty nondescript garage, with a lone motorbike parked in the corner. Oliver slid onto it with an elegance borne from years of experience, and raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction. Barry’s brain whirred, and his eyes widened in surprise. He had never really been on a moving motorbike before. There was one instance, with Dean Daphne in Uni, where he had sat on a stationary one, but that had been different experience altogether.

“You coming?” Oliver asked gruffly, jerking Barry from his thoughts. He gulped, thinking about all the ways he could get injured, but he pushed the thoughts aside, and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied. Oliver accepted the answer and tossed him a spare red and black helmet. Barry turned it in his hands for a few seconds, simply admiring it, before putting it on and turning to Oliver, who had already donned a simple black helmet of his own. He fumbled a little while clambering onto the motorbike — his long legs failed him once again — but he eventually got the hang of it and limply held onto the back of the bike, unsure what to do, until Oliver revved the bike loudly and Barry found himself clinging to the other man’s waist.

They sped out of the garage so fast that Barry could have sworn the world around him blurred into one. Trees and concrete coalesced into a single motion, making his stomach lurch uncomfortably. It wasn’t that Barry was afraid of speed, he was just inexperienced with handling it. He liked to take things at a steady pace. The only comfort was Oliver, a wall of firm muscles and steadfast determination, a man who seemed intimately familiar with speed. Barry stared at the back of his head as they travelled through the Glades and into the richer part of Star City, simply admiring him.

The journey was spent in silence, but not uncomfortably so. Barry didn’t feel like he had any words to exchange with Oliver, and he suspected the older man felt the same. Eventually, they reached Star City General Hospital, and Barry disembarked. Oliver skilfully slid off after him, and made for the doors.

“Oliver?” Barry called out, effectively halting him. “I wanted to say thanks.”

Oliver raised a quizzical eyebrow. “For what?”

Barry shrugged. “For letting me come as well.”

Oliver frowned. “Barry, I was going to come as…” he trailed off, shooting him a look.

“I know,” Barry nodded quickly, showing that he got the message. He shot the other man an apologetic smile. “But even still, I appreciate it. And I appreciate what you do. Thank you.”

The words seemed to strike a chord in Oliver. There were subtle changes to his mannerisms that only an eye as keenly developed as Barry’s could spot. The rigid tension in the billionaire’s shoulders slackened imperceptibly, his expression softened slightly, the cold meticulous stare in his dazzling blue eyes was replaced by a rawer, tender emotion, one that Barry couldn’t quite place. It shifted constantly, and was gone in an instant. At least, it felt that way; their eyes had been locked together, and the world had started to fade away, so Barry wasn’t entirely sure how long they had remained in that position, but it had finished sooner than he would have liked.

Oliver gave a single, minute nod, before he turned away and walked through the hospital doors. Barry lingered by the motorbike briefly, almost hesitantly, before he also stepped into the hospital.

* * *

 

Finding Laurel and Quentin hadn’t been a difficult task, to Barry’s surprise. Star City General Hospital was filled to the brim with patients and hassled nurses, but all they had to do was approach Dr. Lamb, who was apparently an old family friend of Oliver’s family, and they were directed to the correct room in the ICU ward.

The pair rounded a corner, freezing instantly. Laurel was directly in front of them, tightly embracing a man with his back to them. Barry snuck a glance at Oliver, noticing the way the muscle in his jaw twitched, something he did a lot when he was irritated. Barry had only known him for a day, and even he had noticed that almost straight away.

Laurel finally noticed them. She pulled out of her one-armed embrace, smiled at her friend, and moved over to them. “Oliver,” she said in surprise, before turning to Barry. She blinked, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she saw. “Barry! Hi.”

“Hey,” Barry said with an awkward wave and sheepish grin. “I hope you don’t mind me being here. I wanted to see how you and your dad were doing.”

Laurel smiled at him, genuinely touched. “I’m fine now, thank you.”

“How is he?”

Laurel looked sadly at an open door. “He’s on the mend, physically. Mentally… I don’t know. Losing Lucas like that...” she heaved a sigh. “He doesn’t blame the Arrow. He knows now that every death in the city isn’t tied directly to him.”

Barry noted the ‘now’ in her statement. Evidently, the Arrow had a scuffle with authority sometime ago, though he wasn’t sure how the Black Canary factored into the feud.

“What’s Sebastian Blood doing here?” Oliver asked quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. He looked down at Laurel, his eyes searching, confused. Barry could have sworn he had seen a flash of envy.

“He wanted to check up on me,” Laurel explained calmly, “see how I was doing. Is that a problem?”

Oliver smiled thinly. “No.”

Laurel nodded. “Good. And don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about his agenda or anything.”

Barry quirked a brow, intrigued by the sentence. He didn’t get much time to consider the statement as Laurel turned to him, and smiled consolingly.

“Barry, you don’t mind if I talk to Oliver for a moment, do you? There’s something important we have to discuss,” she said softly. Her voice dropped into a whisper, and she said, “my dad has some important information for the Arrow, which he wants the Black Canary to relay.”

“No!” Barry was quick to assure her. “No, it’s fine.”

Laurel smiled gratefully at him, before she all but dragged the reticent Oliver away, speaking to him in hushed whispers. Barry stood awkwardly in the hallway for a while, speculating on how he could occupy his time, before he decided to curiously peek into Quentin’s hospital room.

He instantly regretted the decision.

As soon as Barry looked in, Quentin gaped at him, his attention already fixed on the door. Barry briefly considered running away, but realised that wouldn’t look good in the unlikely event he would need to collaborate with the SCPD in the future. So, Barry sucked up his fears and took a step into the room.

“Detective Lance,” he squeaked. Clearly he was off to a swimmingly good start. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” Quentin remarked dryly. “You’re that C.S.I kid, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” Barry nodded, touched that the detective was able to recall him.

“Bart, wasn’t it?”

Then again, maybe he was wrong. “Barry,” he corrected, stepping further into the room.

“Sure,” Quentin grunted. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came for Laurel,” Barry replied absently. His fingers, which had been dancing on the armrest of the chair tucked in the corner of the room, froze suddenly. He realised how his statement could be misconstrued. 

Quentin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I may be in this hospital bed,” he said slowly, “but I will still kick your ass.”

“Dad!” Laurel said sharply as she entered the room, her eyes narrowed in a withering glare. “It’s not like that!”

“And if it was — not that I’m implying that I want to date your daughter, sir,” Barry spewed awkwardly, wincing at the pair of incredulous stares. “I just meant that, if I did, and I inexplicably did something to annoy her, she would probably do most of the butt-kicking.”

“Don’t I know it,” Quentin mused.

Laurel rolled her eyes at the pair of them and tucked the blanket over her father’s body. “You should be resting,” she said firmly.

“The whole city needs a rest, honey, you most of all,” Quentin retorted.

“I’m fine,” Laurel said unconvincingly.

The detective scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m not actually in this hospital bed.” He raised his hand to silence Laurel when she opened her mouth to object, an act that appeared strenuous judging by the visible wince. “Look, sweetheart, I’m proud of you. I really am. I’m proud of your work at CNRI, I’m proud of your work as an ADA, and I’m proud of —” he paused, casting a suspicious look in Barry’s direction.

“It’s okay, he knows,” Laurel assured him. At Quentin’s belligerent stare, she quickly added, “it’s a long story, but don’t worry. I trust him.”

“Laurel, I’m not even going to pretend to understand some of the company you keep, and I never thought I would say this, but I am  _ glad _ that you are the Black Canary. I’m glad for all the good you’re doing, and I’m glad for all the good it’s done you. But even you need to rest. You can’t keep giving your all to this godforsaken city without it burning you up.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I think you need a break. Not for a long time,” he added hastily when Laurel screwed up her face in disdain. “For a couple of days. That’s all I ask. Go up to Central City, visit your mum. You know she’d love to see you.”

Barry perked up at the mention of Central City, but remained respectfully silent.

“But the city —”

“The city still has the Arrow, and that crazy blonde vigilante running around. They’ll manage without you.” Quentin looked at her hopefully. “What d’ya say?”

Laurel hesitated, before she agreed. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.  _ If _ you come as soon as you’re discharged.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Quentin replied instantly. “There’s still so much I have to do. Jeannie needs someone, and the city —”

“Dad,” Laurel interrupted, her tone imploring. “Like you said, the Arrow, the blonde vigilante and the rest of the SCPD can look after the city for a few days, and Jeannie has her mother.  _ Please. _ ”

The detective sighed resignedly. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asked rhetorically. “Fine.”

“You’ll come as soon as you’re discharged?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Laurel smiled. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’ll leave you to rest now. Come on, Barry.”

“Hm?” Barry blinked. “Oh! Right, yeah. Er, get well soon, Detective.”

Quentin grunted a goodbye, leaning his head against his pillow. Barry and Laurel quickly exited the room, and Laurel slumped against the wall almost immediately.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked hesitantly.

“Fine, it’s just —” Laurel sighed, looking haggard. She really did deserve a break. “Oliver’s gone to track down Cyrus Gold. and I can’t help much with my broken arm. And now my dad wants me to take a trip to Central City, so I’ll need to pack.”

“Before that,” Barry interrupted earnestly. He didn’t know why he was doing so, but Laurel looked starved and exhausted and he couldn’t just leave her in that state. “Have you ever tried a black and white milkshake?”

Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in confusion.

* * *

 

Laurel drummed her fingers against the tabletop. She casually looked around the diner, relaxing to the rhythm of the latest pop song. She simply watched the people she protected chat amongst themselves. Barry admired her as he set their food plates down. He couldn’t help but grin at her obvious delight.

“How did you find this place?” Laurel asked curiously.

Barry leaned forward eagerly. “Harrison Wells gave a glowing review of this place in his autobiography, thoroughly recommended. I knew that I had to check it out.”

Laurel nodded slowly, looking as if she hadn’t understood a single word he’d said. She picked up a chip, twirled it in her fingers, and looked at him again, contemplative.

Barry took a sip of his drink. “What?” he asked curiously.

Laurel merely smiled, and dipped a chip into her milkshake. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I—I wanted to,” Barry smiled slightly. “No one should be alone when they’re suffering.”

Laurel smiled at that. “Well, I appreciate it. Thank you.” She drank some of her water.

“It’s my pleasure,” Barry said truthfully. “Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear — and I know that this might be crossing a line here, so feel free to not answer — but does your mum really live in Central City?”

“Yes, she does,” Laurel confirmed. Her eyes fluttered down to her burger, her expression slightly crumpling. “My dad and her, they’re divorced.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Laurel’s lips twitched. “Don’t be. I understand why she did it now. My dad… he wasn’t in a good place. And she couldn’t handle it, not after everything she’s lost over the years. I get it. I only wish that she hadn’t moved so far away from home.”

Barry offered her a sympathetic smile, which Laurel reciprocated after a pause. He understood her desire to have family close; his father’s incarceration at Iron Heights had left him distraught as a child, and sometimes, when he had a bad day at school, he just wanted to run into his arms and be reassured that everything would be alright.

Laurel drew a shaky breath. “But she’s doing great. She’s a florist now. Runs her own shop — Sherwood Florist.”

“Sherwood Florist,” Barry repeated, curious to see how the name rolled off his tongue. He nodded in approval. “Catchy.”

The lawyer grinned at him. She grabbed her burger with her free hand and bit into it, relishing the taste. “This is actually really good.”

“Told you,” Barry proclaimed triumphantly. “Best burgers in Star City. I’d even go as far as to say that they’re better than Big Belly Burger.”

Laurel chuckled at his statement. “I’d like to hear you to tell Ollie or Felicity that. They’d probably call you a heathen.”

Barry huffed quietly. “Hey, speaking of Oliver, I was wondering if you and he were…”

“Together?” Laurel finished with a knowing smile. “No, not anymore.”

"Oh.”

“We didn’t work out,” Laurel answered his internal question, “Oliver and I. Things happened and we just couldn’t go back to the way things were. I still love him, a lot, but not in that way.”

Barry noticed Laurel’s slightly crestfallen expression as she spoke. Clearly there were still lingering feelings there, and he felt bad for prying.

“Why?”

“I just notice you call him ‘Ollie’ a lot.”

Laurel’s eyes grew distant, nostalgic. “It’s a childhood nickname,” she explained, “We used to give them to all of our closest friends and family. Oliver was Ollie, I was Laurel, Thea was Speedy, and…” she took a sharp breath, “and there were two others. My sister Sara, and our friend Thomas. We used to call him Tommy, and Sara, well, she was called Drake, sometimes.”

Barry reached over and tentatively took Laurel’s hand into his own, squeezing gently. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He was aware that Tommy had been killed in the Undertaking, and that Sara had died when she went on the dreaded Gambit voyage that left Oliver stranded for five years. The scandal had received extensive coverage, but Barry had pushed it to the back of his mind. It was the mention of her name that prompted Barry to remember Sara Drake Lance.

Laurel gave him a teary smile, and quickly wiped her eyes before she gratefully squeezed his hand in return. “I hope he’s okay,” Laurel murmured, quickly changing the subject. “Oliver, I mean. Going up against Cyrus alone when we couldn’t defeat him together… it scares me.”

“You know what I think?” Barry asked hesitantly. He leaned forward on his elbows. “I think that Oliver’s going to be just fine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, I’m not,” he admitted. “I just believe. I have a little experience in believing things that others don’t.”

Laurel regarded him thoughtfully. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s finish up here and then check on Felicity. Maybe she has an answer.”

Barry nodded, accepting her proposal. The pair chatted about various trivial things as they finished their burgers and fries and, after clearing up, made a beeline for Verdant.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Laurel called out as they both hurried down the steps into the lair — she had informed Barry that they called it the Foundry. 

“Hey,” Felicity responded sullenly, shooting them a small smile. “The arm okay?”

“It’s getting there,” Laurel conceded. She moved over and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair away from Felicity’s face, looking down at the hacker intently. “How are you?”

“Scared,” Felicity replied. “Scared Oliver won’t come back.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t, but… a friend recently taught me that optimism can go a long way.” Laurel smiled at the silent Barry, who felt his chest swell with happiness.

“Well, I could use that optimism of yours right about now,” Diggle said gruffly as he walked into view, a towel over his shoulder. He was drenched in sweat. Barry suspected that he had been working out to relieve himself of his anxiety.

Laurel pursed her lips. “Oliver’s gone to fight Gold, then?”

“About half an hour ago,” Felicity revealed apprehensively. “We lost communication a while back. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“We don’t know if he’s dead or not,” Diggle added bluntly. Barry offered him a small smile. Diggle visibly relaxed at that, and he smiled back. Barry wondered if the team forgot that Diggle also had emotions beneath the brawn and towering physique that needed to be nurtured.

“Hang in there.” Laurel gave Felicity’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Both of you. Ollie’s endured tougher challenges,” she bit her lip, reconsidering her statement, “I hope.”

An awkward silence descended upon the room. Barry looked between each member, taking note of their nervous kinetic energy. Felicity kept drumming her hands against the keyboard anxiously, her eyes glued to the screen, Diggle’s hands twitched, itching for a distraction, a wish that was fulfilled by Laurel. She grabbed a pair of tonfas from her suit display case and tossed him one. 

Wordlessly, the two engaged in a duel similar to fencing. Despite her broken arm, Laurel sparred fiercely. Her movements were almost elegant, compared to Diggle’s brutish approach. Fluid, timed and powerful. Her jabs moved so fast that Bary could hardly keep up, but Diggle managed to deflect them with ease. There was a rhythm there, a familiarity between the two that Barry couldn’t comprehend. He watched them spar in awe. He couldn’t fathom fighting as ruthlessly and powerfully as they did, but he could appreciate it — appreciate their dedication to their vigilante work, by ensuring they were at their peak fitness.

He briefly wondered how long they could manage sparring before tiring, but the sound of a beeping computer caught their attention and brought the spar to an end. 

Felicity rolled over to the monitor. “It’s Oliver!” she gasped in relief. “He’s okay! He’s… taking Roy home?”

Despite the confusion over Roy, Barry quickly relaxed. “That’s — that’s good,” he managed.

“Yeah,” Laurel agreed, “that  _ is _ good.” She looked over at Barry. “Thanks.”

Barry furrowed his brow. “What for?”

“For keeping my hopes up. It worked.”

Barry beamed at her. “You’re welcome. I guess you’re free to come with me now?”

“I guess so,” Laurel confirmed.

“Sorry,” Felicity interrupted. “Where exactly are you going?”

Barry began to respond, but was cut off by Laurel, who thoughtfully said, “Felicity?”

“Yeah?” Felicity responded suspiciously.

Laurel smiled. “Could you do me a favour and order a train ticket for Central City?”

“Oh.” Felicity’s eyes lit up with comprehension. _ "Oh. _ You going to see your…? What am I saying, of course you are. Er, yeah, of course I can.” She wheeled around and started typing away immediately.

“Taking a vacation, Laurel?” Diggle asked curiously.

“A small one,” Laurel admitted. “Just until my arm gets better. I’m gonna stay with my mum for a few days.”

“Good,” Diggle voiced his approval. “You deserve a break.”

“Thanks, John,” Laurel said with a smile. She turned to Barry, who was staring intently at her. “What is it?”

Barry tilted his head thoughtfully, a thought brewing in the back of his mind. “Can I quickly see your mask for a sec?”

* * *

 

“Why did you want to see it?” Barry looked up from his book, Harrison Wells’ autobiography — which he had already read multiple times — and at Laurel, who was sat on his left. She lowered her voice considerably. “My mask?”

Barry grinned, a mix of understanding and excitement. “I left a gift for Oliver,” he revealed. “I hope he likes it.”

“I’m sure he will,” Laurel encouraged.

Barry’s smile waned slightly. He looked down at his book. They were both on the train bound for Central City, having made a conscious effort to be early to the train station, a plan that would have been derailed if not for Laurel’s ingenuity. He had said his goodbyes to Felicity and Diggle, who had bid him an amicable farewell, but had left before Oliver appeared.

He didn’t really have an explanation for his behaviour, but the thought of saying goodbye to Oliver had made him nervous in a way that he hadn’t anticipated, and, if he were being honest with himself, he felt like Oliver wouldn’t even care about his departure, nor would the billionaire notice, so with resolve, Barry had left Star City behind with Laurel in tow.

Central City, and by proxy, STAR Labs, soon came into view, and Barry’s worries about Oliver were immediately pushed to the back of his mind. He beamed excitedly at Laurel. “It’s super cool, isn’t it?” he inquired, gesturing to the view behind her. “STAR Labs, I mean.”

“Yes, it’s er —  _ super _ cool,” an unfamiliar voice responded. The pair turned to the source, an elderly man with combed grey hair and a pair of black spectacles. Barry soon learned that he wasn’t a fan of the particle accelerator, and the pair had a lengthy discussion about the repercussions it would have on the scientific world and Harrison Wells. Barry only ended the conversation because Laurel hurriedly pushed him out of the door as they had reached their stop.

“Close one,” she huffed.

“Yeah,” he shot her a sheepish look, “sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “We made it. That’s what counts.”

Barry lapsed into an awkward silence, wondering how he was supposed to bid Laurel farewell, when his phone buzzed. He produced it from his pocket and read the message, his eyes widening in alarm. “Oh, _ crap," _ he hissed.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, big problem. Er.” He stumbled over his words slightly. “I’ve gotta go. There’s a crime scene I’m needed at and — sorry to leave you like this. Hey, maybe I’ll see you around!”

“It’s no problem,” Laurel assured him. “Bye, Barry! See you around!”

Barry waved at her, and hurried off, confident that he would see Laurel Lance again, and blissfully unaware of the shocking fate that awaited him.

* * *

 

Laurel hurried down the winding street, coat pulled over her head, cursing her insistence on closing down Sherwood Florist to relieve her mother’s workload and her subsequent decision to pick up Big Belly Burger for dinner. A rainstorm had unexpectedly brewed, leaving her soaked. She was still several blocks away from her mum’s apartment, so she picked up her pace.

Central City was restless. People milled around, some trying to avoid getting drenched, some hurrying home after a long day at work, while others chatted excitedly about the particle accelerator. Laurel briefly thought of Barry, and wondered how the man was spending his evening.

A person shoved past Laurel unapologetically, causing her to drop her soaked food bag. Laurel scowled at the man’s back, before bending down to scoop the bag back up, when she froze. An explosion rumbled loudly in the distance. Before she could react, a group of screaming people rushed past her. One trod on Laurel’s broken arm, sending a fresh wave of pain up her body. 

She howled in pain, when a burst of warm yellow energy unexpectedly enveloped her, and sent her crashing into a nearby wall. Her head smacked against the concrete painfully, silencing her scream instantly. 

Laurel blinked rapidly, trying to force the fresh wave of pain away. She felt dizzy, and her vision was starting to blur and haze. She was starting to hallucinate too. A small blonde woman collapsed by her side, staring into her eyes worriedly. Laurel forced her eyes to stay open — a losing battle — just to keep the vision alive. She held out her hand, and the woman grasped it tightly. 

“Sara,” Laurel managed to croak breathlessly before her vision swam and she lost consciousness.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in another area of Central City, at the police precinct, Barry was struck by a rogue, supercharged bolt of lightning and was thrown into the shelf behind him. Fragmented shards of the broken skylight cut his skin, quantities of liquid chemicals doused him, and his entire body flared in white-hot pain before everything went dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cissie King-Jones is a teenage comics character who goes by the superhero codename "Arrowette". Her most prominent appearance is in the upcoming third season of Young Justice.
> 
> Sara's middle name being Drake was a theory developed by many when she was first introduced as the "original" Canary of the Arrowverse, replacing the role of Laurel's comic mother, Dinah Drake-Lance. As Tina Boland/Dinah Drake does not exist in this fanfic universe, I decided to adopt this theory.
> 
> The diner Barry and Laurel go to is the same one Laurel and Nyssa visit in Series 3.
> 
> Personal thanks to my betas Technologykilledreality and Panofaar, who provide me with grammar insight, friendship and emotional support to fall back on <3
> 
> Happy New Year! I hope you all have a good one.


	6. Freeze Frame

“Where’s Barry?” Oliver scanned the Foundry slowly, trying not to let his curiosity seep into his expression. The C.S.I had been influential in foiling Cyrus Gold and the man in the skull mask. Without him, he would never have been able to save Roy in time after he was injected with the Mirakuru. Oliver didn’t know how he would ever be able to face Thea if he’d been too late.

“He went back to Central City,” Felicity replied. “Wanted to get home in time to see them turn on the particle accelerator. Laurel went with him to visit her mum.”

Oliver nodded. He had been informed about Laurel’s trip earlier, but he hadn’t been aware of their intentions to leave early. He had planned to apologise to Barry for his abrasive behaviour, and thank him for his role in their success, though whether he would have actually gone through with it was an entirely different matter.

“Although he told me that he left you a gift…” Felicity trailed off, and proceeded to rummage around the desk previously occupied by the Central City resident. “Aha!” She held up a small cardboard box for Oliver to see.  Curious, Oliver took the box and stared at it, speculating on the contents within. He pulled the lid open to find a dark green mask similar to Laurel’s nestled above a crumpled piece of scrap paper. He gingerly picked it up, scrutinising it, testing the weight and trying to quell the pang of warmth blossoming in his chest from his features when he realised that Barry had actually gone to the trouble of making him a dyed mask to fit his Arrow aesthetic.

“Even the Arrow deserves a Christmas present,” Diggle said teasingly. Oliver’s lips quirked up in amusement as he handed his friend the box.

“Here,” Felicity offered as she took the mask and slid it over his head. She adjusted it slightly and smiled in satisfaction.

“How do I look?” Oliver asked self-consciously as he pulled the hood over his face. The mask sculpted to his face perfectly.

“Like a fraud.”

Oliver frowned. That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. The voice was strange, as well. Deep and raspy, with an Australian lilt — a male voice that didn’t belong to Felicity. In some ways, it was foreign, but in other, more personal ways, it was deeply, intimately familiar. He looked up to see that Diggle and Felicity had disappeared, replaced by a man staring up at him, his jet black hair streaked with grey (an after-effect of the Mirakuru); his beard was scruffier, his militaristic outfit worn and dirty, and his black eyepatch obscured his right eye. His lips curled into a cruel sneer.

“Hey, kid,” he rasped. “Still trying to be a hero?”

“Slade,” Oliver growled. “What are you doing here?”

“Still so demanding,” Slade tutted. “I thought I’d taught you better. Never make demands with your superiors.”

“You’re not my superior,” Oliver disputed firmly. “You’re not even alive. I already know what my ghosts were trying to tell me, so why are you still here?”

“Even after the island, you’re still the same bratty kid you always were,” Slade said coldly. He slowly circled the still Oliver, running a hand over the smooth green leather of his outfit. “Who are you trying to fool, kid?”

“I wear this hood to honour them. To honour what they taught me —”

“No,” Slade interrupted quietly. He ran a firm hand down Oliver’s toned body slowly, teasingly, before cupping the vigilante’s bulging erection harshly. Oliver gasped in surprise. Slade merely grinned wolfishly. “Who are you trying to  _ fool?" _

Oliver felt a fog cloud his thoughts. “I—”

“You always wanted more, didn’t you? I knew you did. Being my brother wasn’t enough.” Slade sneered cruelly, his tone mocking. “What would mummy think about your… inclinations, Oliver? How could she ever give her company over to her son when he was interested in men? What would poor little Thea think of her big brother, the closeted bisexual, hiding himself away beneath pretences? We all know what your father thought of you.”

Oliver wanted to punch the man in anger, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He merely bowed his head in shame. Slade reached over, cupped his chin and tilted his head upwards, rubbing the stubble gently. He pulled the hood back to see Oliver’s wide eyes. The billionaire felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation at the touch.

“Leave him be, Slade.” Oliver couldn’t contain his surprise when Shado appeared by his side, a hand on his arm. Her expression was warm, loving. “He’s clearly embarrassed.”

“Shado…” he murmured, reaching over to touch her face. 

Shado smiled coyly, and moved just out of his reach. “Hello, Oliver."

“But…” he stuttered, looking between them in confusion. “You’re both gone. I saw you vanish when Adeline…” he gulped. “And the rat poison’s out of my system, so why are you here?”

“See? He’s flustered!” Shado’s tone was playfully reprimanding.

Slade chuckled. “When isn’t he? Even still, I have to admit that I am touched by your feelings. But you know what, kid?” He moved his hand to the back of Oliver’s head, and pulled him into an embrace. His lips brushed over the billionaire’s, and rested by his ear, his breath ghosting the ear lobe. His grip on the back of Oliver’s neck tightened, as he quietly whispered, “I would never have given you the time of day.”

Before he could react, Slade plunged a sword through through Oliver’s abdomen. Oliver grunted in pain, blood pouring out of his open mouth. He shook in terror, trying to regain a sensation in his body that wasn’t pain. His eyes flew desperately to Shado, but she merely shrugged. Though her expression was sympathetic, she made no move to help him.

“Shh,” Slade whispered soothingly when Oliver gasped, “this is exactly what you deserve.” He stabbed another sword through Oliver’s heart, twisting them mercilessly. He watched gleefully as Oliver took a sharp intake of breath, before he succumbed to the pain and slumped limply onto the ground, the light in his bright blue eyes quickly fading. The last thing he saw was Shado kneeling beside him and pressing her lips to his limp hand.

And then everything went dark.

* * *

 

Oliver awoke with a gasp, his hand flying to attack an invisible opponent before logical thought caught up to him. He lowered his hand, and looked around in confusion, his heart beating loudly in his chest, and his body drenched in sweat. He took a steadying breath to calm himself, ready to mull over the meaning of the dream, when Thea burst into the room.

“Ollie!” she exclaimed, looking distressed.

“Thea, what did we say about knocking?” he demanded shortly.

“Forget that!” she exclaimed dismissively. “You need to see the news!”

Oliver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, opting to watch as Thea fly around the room in exasperation. She eventually located the television remote on the far side of the room and switched his TV on, flicking through the numerous channels until she landed on Channel 52, where a news report was playing out.

_ "And in other news, the explosion that devastated Central City due to the malfunctioning particle accelerator yesterday has claimed the lives of seventeen people and injured countless more. The city is in a state of lockdown, and—” _

“Laurel’s in Central City,” Thea said worriedly. Tears had started to form in her eyes. She turned to him, her bottom lip quivering. “Ollie, what if she’s —”

“Hey,” Oliver said soothingly. He pulled himself out of the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around his sister, despite his own internal paranoia. Thea gripped his shoulders just as tightly, her body trembling with unshed tears. “Nothing bad has happened to her, Thea.”

“You can’t know that,” Thea croaked. “And she’s not the only one.”

Oliver frowned. “What do you mean?”

Thea sniffled and pulled back. “I, erm — I heard another news report before I came here. And, er…” She looked him straight in the eye and took a shuddering breath. “That guy you were teaching to dance, Barry, he’s in a coma.”

Oliver felt like he had been punched in the gut. He couldn’t imagine Barry, who had been so excitable and full of life, as a coma patient. “What?”

“Yeah, it was on the news, because — because he got struck by lightning,” Thea sighed. “It was unique, so journalists sort of  _ flocked _ to the story, I guess. CCPD made a statement.”

“Oliver? Thea?” The siblings turned to see Moira Queen stride into the room, her blonde hair tied back in a bun and a white dressing gown covering her sleepwear. “Quentin was just on the phone. Laurel was caught up in the blast — she hasn’t been killed,” she quickly assured them.

“Oh, thank god,” Thea sighed in relief.

_ "But," _ Moira’s tone was grave, “she  _ is _ in a coma.”

As quickly as the relief had bubbled in his chest, sinking dread filled Oliver’s stomach. He held onto Thea, who kept muttering ‘no’ desperately like a mantra and looked as if she was about to collapse, while supporting himself by leaning against the wooden bedpost, his expression grave.

Moira walked over and embraced her children. Thea clung onto her immediately, but Oliver stood limply, trying to process the news. First the dream, mocking him about his secrets and bringing his complicated feelings for Slade and Shado to the forefront of his mind, and now the news of the particle accelerator accident rendering Laurel and Barry as coma patients left him spiralling. It was too much to comprehend at once. His head spun dizzyingly and his legs trembled slightly. Finally, he clung onto his mother and tried not to shed the tears that threatened to spill.

* * *

 

Despite the gut-wrenching news, Oliver didn’t drop everything and travel to Central City. Instead, he threw himself into his work at Queen Consolidated and his job as the Arrow, immersing himself in the experience of cleaning up the streets of his city, while trying to push away his thoughts about Laurel and, to his surprise, Barry on occasion. Crying over their bedside wouldn’t do him any good. The best way he could help is if he made Star City a safe place for Laurel when she returned. _ If _ she returned.

He pushed the distressing thoughts to the back of his mind and attacked the wooden training dummy with renewed vigour, landing a flurry of punches, jabs and kicks astonishingly quickly. Felicity, Diggle, Thea and Moira had all gone to visit Laurel as soon as they could, and they often regarded him scornfully for not finding the time to do the same.

“I think that dummy’s had enough,” Diggle said lightly as he strode into the Foundry and sat on the edge of the table.

Oliver landed a final punch. “I haven’t.” He moved away from the dummy and picked up his water bottle, taking a long swig. Eventually, he turned to address Diggle’s piercing gaze burning holes into his back. “What?”

“Oliver, man, it’s been three weeks.”

“I know.”

Diggle stared at him seriously. “You can’t keep putting it off.”

“I’m not,” Oliver growled warningly. Diggle ignored him.

“You believe that as much as I do.” He watched Oliver moved over to the salmon ladder with a heavy sigh. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into your work like this without addressing the problem. It’s not healthy.”

“What do you want me to do, John?” Oliver grunted as he advanced a rung. “Let the criminals run amok while I pity myself?”

“No, Oliver, I want you to deal with this issue healthily,” Diggle countered. “When I was on my second tour in Afghanistan, Lyla was injured. Shot in the arm because of a sneak attack. I did the same thing as you, man, I threw myself into my fighting, but it didn’t fix my problems. It made them worse.”

Oliver advanced three extra rungs before addressing his friend. “So what did you do?”

“I went to see Lyla.” Oliver didn’t need to see Diggle to know that he was smiling fondly. “Faced the issue head-on, like I should have done since the beginning. We talked, we kissed — and then we got married.”

“With all due respect, Diggle, this isn’t exactly the same situation,” Oliver grumbled.

“No, but it’s the principle that counts,” Diggle countered. “Oliver, this isn’t some rogue criminal or corrupt politician you’re facing, these are your friends. Talking goes a long way to fixing issues like this. And I’m sure Laurel wants to see you.”

“She’s in a coma, Diggle, she doesn’t want anything,” Oliver said petulantly.

Diggle scoffed, and tossed him one of Laurel’s signature tonfas, which Oliver caught with ease. “You believe that crap as much as I do. You’ve known Laurel basically your whole life. You’ve been in love with her. You know exactly what she would want, and what she wants is to see you. Just think about it. And remember — you can’t avoid this forever. You might as well get it over and done with.” Diggle rose from the table and started to move away. “Besides, if you do, Felicity might just spare you.”

Oliver ignored the quip. He stared down at the tonfa thoughtfully, and mulled over Diggle’s words. It was true, he knew exactly what Laurel wanted. She was his only childhood friend left, now that Tommy and Sara were dead. He twirled the tonfa in his hand and struck the closest training dummy. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Laurel — he actually desired nothing more than to see her — but he was scared of what he’d find when he got there. Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world, the Black Canary, fragile and unconscious on a hospital bed. The idea made him nauseous.

But Diggle was right. He couldn’t keep avoiding the issue forever. He took a steadying breath, and he made his decision.

* * *

 

“What kind of message do you think you’re sending the stakeholders by strolling off for a vacation in the midst of drafting a speech for the next annual meeting?” Isabel Rochev demanded heatedly, tailing Oliver’s steps perfect as he strode towards the exit. “We need their support, now more than ever!”

“Get someone else to draft the speech,” Oliver dismissed brusquely.

Isabel scowled, her expression unyielding. “Even if I did, you need to rehearse in time, and seeing as this is you we’re talking about, we need you _ here _ so I can oversee the rehearsal.” 

She paused outside the perimeter of the parking lot, but Oliver kept walking, making a beeline for Diggle and Felicity. He had agreed to visit Central City.

“Oliver!” Isabel cried out. “You can’t just skip off like this! We have responsibilities to adhere to!”

Oliver grit his teeth, pivoting on his heels to face her. He kissed his teeth. “Isabel, as of now, I am on a two-day leave.”

Isabel crossed her arms. “For what reason? I know you have an unreliable history, but after your rousing speech about making your family company a success again — _ before _ you allowed your mother back into the company — I’d expected a little more tact.”

“I am on leave for personal reasons,” Oliver said shortly.

“Family squabble?” Isabel sneered mockingly.

“No,” Oliver responded slowly, "I'm visiting Barry Allen.”

Isabel narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “The C.S.I who investigated the stolen centrifuge three weeks ago?”

“Yes.” Oliver tried to mask his surprise. He hadn’t expected her to remember Barry, which is why his name was used instead of Laurel’s. For reasons beyond Oliver, the two women despised each other.

“For what reason?”

“He’s been put into a coma because of the particle accelerator malfunction,” he snapped quietly. “Is that a good enough reason?”

Isabel straightened. She had the decency to look chastised. “I see,” she murmured. “My condolences.”

Oliver nodded curtly, grateful to have her off his back. He walked up to Diggle and Felicity, the latter looking like she had a snide comment to share but was waiting until they were out of earshot. His lips quirked upwards at the sight.

“Please forward my condolences to Ms. Lance,” Isabel called out.

Oliver froze, spinning around to face her, trying to mask his surprise. Isabel smirked mischievously, her eyes gleamed calculatingly and — was that glee? He couldn’t tell. She turned on her heels and stalked away into the main building, leaving the trio behind.

“Finally,” Felicity murmured, “I thought she’d never leave.” She clapped her hands together and raised her voice a bit. “So! We doing this or not?”

* * *

 

The trip to Central City was blissfully shorter than expected. Oliver had spent the duration of the journey staring out the window, watching the landscape blur away, contemplating and anticipating the destruction he was sure to see. Central City wasn’t his home, but it was Laurel’s second home, and that gave him a certain degree of emotional investment. Felicity was absorbed by something on her tablet, tapping away in the silence, and John remained respectfully quiet.

As soon as they touched down in Central City, they headed straight for the hospital. Diggle quickly hailed a cab. The three bundled into the car and used that to drive to Central City hospital. As they drove, Oliver scanned the wrecked streets, his stomach churning. Broken windows, closed shutters, empty streets — it looked like a warzone.

“It’s like looking at the apocalypse,” Felicity muttered. Oliver didn’t respond. 

The journey was surprisingly short. As soon as they were settled in the parking lot, Oliver paid the driver and strode towards the hospital with big, purposeful steps, his mind focused on Laurel. He heard Felicity and Diggle behind him, struggling to keep up. He considered them, and slowed his pace slightly so they could keep up. They walked in amicable silence.

When Oliver stepped into the hospital foyer, he was taken aback by the chaos. Nurses, doctors, visitors and soldiers milled around in frenzy, clamouring to reach their individual destinations, shouting over each over to be heard. Some wept, others shouted, and some tried to calm the raging crowd, only to inevitably be drowned out by the uproar. 

He quickly snapped himself out of his trance, strode to the reception, pushing past several agitated people in the process, and tapped on the glass. “Hi,” he said when the suspicious receptionist’s head shot up, her eyes wide. He smiled disarmingly at her, “I’m here to see my friend.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait in line,” the nurse replied evenly. “I’m already seeing to several outpatients, as well as the visitors you barged past.”

Oliver smile waned slightly, and he leaned forward insistently. “But —”

“It’s okay,” Felicity assured him, “I already know where they are.” She gently placed a hand on his arm, steering him away from the crowd and towards an elevator, where Diggle was patiently waiting. They bundled into the elevator, and Felicity glared at Oliver as soon as the doors closed. “Really?”

Oliver looked down at her. “What?”

“Pushing through the crowd like that?” Felicity retorted incredulously. “It’s not gonna help you see Laurel quicker, Oliver, it’ll just delay everything for everybody.”

Oliver’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t respond. He knew she was right. He was still apprehensive about seeing a comatose Laurel. Felicity sighed and looked away, clearly irritated by his abrasiveness. Diggle merely offered him a sympathetic smile, which only made Oliver feel worse.

The elevator doors pinged open, relieving the team of the building tension. They stepped out, and Felicity led them down a hallway confidently, her heels clacking against the linoleum. Oliver briefly glanced into each room they passed, wincing at the sight of injured civilians and their distraught families. It reminded him far too much of the Undertaking aftermath. The brokenness and despair had driven him from the city out shame for six months, until Laurel, Diggle and Felicity tracked him down to Lian Yu and retrieved him. If it wasn’t for him, he might never have returned. He owed a lot to them.

Felicity stopped suddenly, and peered into a room hesitantly. Oliver followed her gaze and felt his breath catch in his throat when he noticed Barry, hidden behind a television and heart monitor. Without thinking, he pushed the door open and crossed the threshold, only stopping when he noticed a man seated by the bedside. The man had short, cropped hair, and noticeable eye bags. He looked up at Oliver, dazed and wide-eyed.

“Hi, Joe,” Felicity said as she entered the room, a sad smile on her face. The man — Joe — relaxed almost instantly. She moved over to him and squeezed his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

“I’m getting there,” Joe said in a gruff voice. He stared suspiciously at Oliver, who coughed awkwardly.

“Oh, right.” Felicity gestured between Oliver and Joe in a manner of introduction. “Oliver, this is Detective Joe West, Barry’s foster father."

“Pleasure to meet you, detective,” Oliver said charmingly. “I’m —”

“I know who you are,” Joe interrupted blandly. “Oliver Queen.”

Oliver shuffled awkwardly. The detective’s disdain was clear for everyone to see.

“We’re here to see our friends,” Felicity supplied nervously, desperate to alleviate the tension. “That includes Barry.”

“I met Barry three weeks ago in Star City,” Oliver explained. “He helped us on a case, and I felt it was only right I come to see him.”

“Hmm,” Joe rumbled suspiciously, but he looked far too exhausted to pursue an argument. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

Oliver nodded curtly, and turned to Barry. His breath caught in his throat again, and he found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Truth be told, he hadn’t even intended to visit Barry. Ever since the dream about Slade and Shado, he felt a compulsive need to distance himself from the young CSI, but now that he was standing in a room, looking at the different wires and tubes hooking him up to a machine, he found he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Barry looked truly peaceful in his sleep. He had been energetic and excitable while awake, but there had been a haunted expression buried beneath the surface, something he hadn’t noticed until the C.S.I had divulged his traumatic past. He stared, mesmerised, at the way Barry’s rising and falling chest synchronised with the gentle beep of the heart monitor.

His observations were cut short when the door opened once again, and a young woman about Barry’s age entered the room, carrying a cup of coffee. 

“Hi, Iris,” Felicity waved.

“Hey, Felicity.” Iris looked at Oliver in surprise. “Er…”

“Hi,” Oliver smiled disarmingly. “Oliver Queen.”

“Iris. West,” Iris replied nervously. She stared at him in disbelief, as if his very presence was impossible. Oliver, on the other hand, recognised her so swiftly it caught him by surprise. Barry’s best friend, and according to Felicity, his foster sister. Iris quickly shook her head, and turned to Joe. “Dad,” she sighed, handing him the cup, “it’s been three weeks. You barely eat or sleep, you should probably go home at some point.”

“Hey, baby,” Joe said tiredly. “I’ll go home when Barry does,” he added firmly. Iris smiled sadly at him, and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. Oliver suddenly felt very out-of-place, intruding on a tender family moment. He was about to suggest he and his team leave to find Laurel when the monitor screeched loudly and Barry started spasming wildly.

“Oh my god!” Iris clasped her hands over her mouth. Joe sprang from his chair and hurried to the door, screaming for assistance.

“What’s happening?” Felicity sounded panicked.

“I think he’s coding,” Diggle revealed gruffly.

“Can’t you do something?” When Diggle regretfully shook his head, Felicity turned to Oliver with wide eyes. “Oliver?”

“They said he was stable!” Iris screamed, but Oliver barely registered her. He stared at Barry’s twitching form in barely concealed shock. The C.S.I was young, and he was potentially dying. It felt wrong to see a young person die before they could fully live out their life. This wasn’t something the Arrow could fix, and that made Oliver feel helpless.

“I need the room,” a doctor said brusquely as he entered he entered the room with an assistant. He pried Joe and Iris from the bedside and shepherded them, along with Oliver, Felicity and Diggle, out the door. 

Iris ran off immediately, tears streaming down her face. The remaining four gathered around the door, peering inside helplessly. Felicity’s shoulders quivered with unshed tears, Joe looked heartbroken, and Oliver felt a rush of protectiveness surge through his veins, which took him by surprise. He supposed it was because he was indebted to Barry for saving him from Cyrus Gold’s concoction.

“They can’t save him.”

The voice jarred Oliver from his thoughts, and he turned to see a middle-aged man with wild brown hair sat on a wheelchair, his stony brown eyes fixed on them behind a pair of black glasses. He spoke stoically, and measuredly, like Oliver when he was trying to explain something important.

“Oh my god,” Felicity whispered, recognition dawning on her features. “You’re —”

“The scientist that Barry’s obsessed with,” Joe interrupted coldly. “The one that blew a hole in the city.”

Oliver tilted his head towards Joe with renewed interest.

“Harrison Wells,” the man in the wheelchair said amicably, “and interestingly enough, my facility is the very place that I would like to take him.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Joe said tiredly.

“How did you not see this coming?” Felicity demanded. “How did you not see the critical failures during your pre-diagnostic tests?”

“I am not infallible,” Harrison Wells replied neutrally, with the faintest hint of irritation, “and I am not going to try and convince you with promises, but Detective, give me a chance.”

“We already know what you’re capable of, Doctor. As Ms. Smoak pointed out, your failure hurt a lot of people that night.”

Harrison pursed his lips, and nodded towards the door. “So, those doctors in there, they’re good enough?” he asked challengingly. “Best in the city? Best in the country? Look at them.” He looked into the room with a scoff. “They have no clue what’s going on — they’re baffled, and the reason for that is what’s happening inside Barry is a mystery and they don’t have the tools to solve it.”

“But you do?” Joe asked hesitantly.

“That’s right,” Harrison said confidently. “Millions of people used to look at my lab, and what did they see? They saw the future; well let me take that technology — let me take that know-how — into ensuring that your son actually  _ does _ have a future.”

The group quietened, taken aback by the humiliated scientist's passionate rant.

“Detective,” Harrison continued softly, “let me save him.”

Oliver refocused on the still Barry. From what little information he had — and if the choice was his to make — he would allow Harrison to save Barry’s life. 

It transpired that Joe agreed with his train of thought. “Then save him.”

Harrison Wells nodded solemnly, his gaze still lingering on the person he had insisted on helping. Felicity wrung her hands anxiously, looking torn between not wanting to cause a scene and itching to confront the man who damaged an entire city. Before she could reach a choice, however, the ground began to rumble, and the lights started flickering. Everybody looked around in surprise.

“What is that, an earthquake?” Diggle inquired.

Before Oliver could respond, a deafening shriek pierced his eardrums. He howled in pain, and collapsed against the wall. His friends, Joe and Harrison also screamed, but they were drowned out by the sheer volume of the strange noise. It sounded like the cry of a thousand birds, amplified by a scream, and it was possibly the most excruciating noise Oliver had ever heard.

“What the hell is that noise?” Joe shouted, but it sounded more like a faint whisper. Doctors, nurses and patients all exited their rooms, screaming in pain and pushing past each other in a messy stampede as the building continued to rumble and the lights flickered dangerously.

“Dr. Wells!” Two people staggered into view. A woman with pale skin and brown hair, and a young man with long curly black hair. Both had their hands clasped over their ears, though it seemed that their effort was in vain. It was the woman who had spoken. “What is that noise?”

“My guess? A meta-human,” Harrison Wells shouted over the din. “You have to find the source, and sedate them.”

“But that noise is excruciating even from a distance. If we get any closer, our ears will be severely damaged, if not ruptured completely,” the woman protested.

“You have to try, Caitlin!” Harrison insisted. “This building is going to come crashing down on us otherwise. Cisco, do you have the sedatives?”

“Yeah, I got them,” the young man, Cisco, replied loudly.

“What the hell are you carrying sedatives for?!” Joe demanded.

“There’s an entire city that wants me dead, Detective, do you really want to get into this now?” Harrison questioned heatedly. “Cisco, Caitlin. Go!”

The pair nodded, and quickly hurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner. In a staggeringly sudden flash, Oliver remembered that Laurel was still comatose in the hospital somewhere, and he felt an inclination to follow the two assistants. He turned to Diggle. “Go!” he urged. “Get them out of here.”

Diggle nodded, but Felicity escaped his grasp. “No!” she protested. “Where are you going?”

“I have to see if I can help.”

“Oliver, this place is unstable. We have to get out!”

“Felicity —”

“— And if you get any closer to that noise, your eardrums will quite literally explode!”

“This is not up for discussion!” Oliver barked. Before Felicity could argue further, the soldiers from downstairs flooded the corridor, shepherding terrified nurses and patients out of the hospital. Oliver spared a look into Barry’s room. The doctors stubbornly remained by his side, insisting that they complete their stablising procedure before wheeling him out, even as a soldier attempted to get them to safety. 

He felt an unexpected swell of pride. Centring himself, he pointed at Diggle, reminding him of his task, and sprinted down the corridor, the faint protests of Joe West mixing with the shrilling in his ears. From the little snippets Oliver caught, the detective was reluctant to leave the hospital without Barry or Iris, who was still somewhere in the hospital.

As he delved deeper into the hospital, the more chaos was generated before Oliver’s eyes. Doctors were trying to coerce hysterical patients to safety, visitors were huddled in corners, terrified out of their minds, all the while trying to block out the agonising screech. Plaster rained down from the ceiling, and Oliver narrowly managed to dodge a stray tile that dislodged from the overhead ceiling.

He was so focused on trying to tolerate the pain and avoid the panicking mass that he didn’t notice Iris speeding in the opposite direction until she had crashed straight into him. “Oh, my god,” she exclaimed, removing her hands from her ears. “Oliver — Mr Queen — Oliver. Wh—what’s happening? Have you seen my dad?”

Oliver moved the flinching woman away from a shattering window. “I don’t know,” he replied, “but your father’s waiting outside looking for you.” He brushed past her, and managed five big steps before she called out to him, twice (he hadn’t heard her the first time, and the second time was barely audible).

“Wait, hang on. Where are you going?”

“I’m looking for a friend,” he replied.

“What — you can’t, it’s not safe!” Iris protested.

Oliver pursed his lips. He was really growing tired of people telling him what he was able to do. “I just want to check if she’s okay,” he replied, knowing that Iris only had the best of intentions.

Iris did not relent. “I’ve seen dead people with their ears bleeding out because of that noise. You can’t go there, you’ll die!”

Oliver was ready to dispute her statement, when he noticed a flicker of movement above Iris. His eyes flew up, and he realised the ceiling was crumbling apart from the mysterious force. The impact would surely crush her. Oliver surged forward, painful memories of Tommy bleeding out beneath debris rushing to the surface, but he was too late. He could only watch as a chunk of the ceiling toppled down. Iris was paralysed in fear, her eyes wide and her hands above her head in a protective stance. Oliver felt a scream tear his throat.

And then everything stopped.

A blinding flash of blue light caught him by surprise. He threw his hands over his eyes to shield them. When he opened them, he blinked several times, both to soothe the stinging pain and to process the bizarre scene before him.

The entire hallway was frozen in an instance of time. Iris’ eyes were still glued to the still debris, petrified, unblinking. A man, who had been unfortunate enough to be standing on the floor above, was stuck diving headfirst towards the ground below. Objects, people, everything was trapped in a single moment, bathed in an azure glow. He moved closer to Iris, his eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment, and recoiled sharply when a flash of yellow engulfed her and she disappeared faster than he could blink.

Oliver whipped his head around in alarm, but everything was still frozen. He turned back to the spot where Iris was stood, his mind reeling, and he hurried to a shattered window. Poking his out, he looked up to identify the source of the blue glow, but all he could see was a core of raw orange energy. He could practically feel the power emanating off it.

The shrill noise was gone as well. The silence hit Oliver like a sack of bricks. He had almost forgotten what thinking with a clear head felt like.

It also granted him the ability to hear the soft footsteps trudging towards him, and based on the fact that everybody but him had been frozen — for reasons beyond him — Oliver could only assume that the unknown figure was hostile. He spun around just in time to see a gun being drawn to his face.

“Very sorry about this, Mr. Queen,” said a man with a British accent, his tone cool and clipped, “but I don’t know why you haven’t been frozen, and I can’t have you rem —”

Oliver interrupted him mid-rant by slamming his closed fist against the man’s wrist to deflect the gun, sending it clattering along the floor. He ducked when a punch was swung at him. His opponent's movements were fluid, but they were uncoordinated, untrained, and that gave him an advantage. He punched the man in the stomach, and propped his elbows against the windowsill, swinging his legs upwards to kick him in the face.

His opponent staggered back, wheezing in pain, but he lurched forward with surprising resilience and punched Oliver across the jaw. Oliver recovered quickly, and used the momentum to flip the man over his shoulder. He crumpled onto the floor in a heap, but got up a few seconds later, gun in hand, pointed straight at Oliver’s face. He squeezed the trigger — 

—  and a white baton flew through the air, knocking the gun out of his hand once again. Oliver twisted in surprise, and froze at the arrival of a new, very familiar, person.

“Enough,” the woman commanded, her eyes darkened with rage. She held an air of calm authority, a stark contrast to the flighty, nervous girl Oliver had known her to be. “This isn’t helping, Rip.”

“I might have known,” Rip chuckled mirthlessly. “While the use of the tractor beam to stabilise the hospital is an ingenious move, tampering with my time grenades is not. I assume that’s what you did to ensure Mr. Queen and yourself remained unaffected?”

“Yes,” Sara Lance kept her head raised in defiance, “I did. This isn’t the business of the Time Bureau, Rip.”

“This is a level twelve aberration, Sara, of course it’s the business of the Time Bureau. You should be grateful I came along.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo,” Sara said dryly, a mocking smile on her face. “If you go near her Rip, I swear I will snap your neck.”

“Sara, this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Rip urged. “None of this was supposed to happen. Your sister never got her Canary Cry like this. She was never in Central City, she was never hit by the dark matter, and she never brought this bloody hospital crashing down, killing everyone in it.”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“Look around you, the both of you,” Sara ordered. “Do you see anybody around?”

Oliver scoured the hallway, and realised she was right. The swathe of terrified civilians had disappeared from sight, including the man suspended in mid-air. He furrowed his brow, wondering how that happened, when a flash of yellow lightning zipped past him and a young man in a yellow suit was stood behind Rip.

“No,” Sara spoke calmly, raising a placating hand, “let me talk to him first, Wally.”

The boy, Wally, pursed his lips, nodding reluctantly. Oliver stared at him in open-shock, unable to comprehend the possibility that he had just materialised out of thin air. No, materialised _ from _ the _ lightning. _

“I see you’ve recruited Mr. West,” Rip groused. “Your little team is expanding, Sara.”

“Hmm,” she grunted. “Go home, Rip.”

“Sara, I can’t.”

“Mick, Amaya and the others are editing the minds of everyone in the hospital that witnessed the Cry, those that were injured are being treated by Gideon as we speak.” Sara took a deep breath. “We’ve got a handle on things.”

“And yet Mr. Palmer was still injured,” Rip pointed out snidely.

“Because  _ you _ blundered in and distracted him!” Sara countered heatedly. “Nate’s taking care of him, he’ll be fine.”

“No, he’s not fine, nobody is  _ fine _ —  history is being rewritten as we speak!” Rip hissed passionately. “Don’t you see? Your sister’s not supposed to have this, Sara. Time will not allow it. It’s not  _ physically possible. _ We’re remnants from a lost timeline. A timeline where she’s  _ dead. _ If you’d just bloody accept that —”

Sara interrupted him by tossing a syringe into his neck. Rip sputtered absently, swaying side to side before collapsing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Oliver turned to her in surprise. She had moved faster than he was used to seeing from her. Her expression was cold, murderous. It reminded him of his own vengeful look, which set him on edge.

“Get him back to the Time Bureau,” Sara told Wally slowly. “Make sure Ava calls him out on his attitude problems.”

Wally nodded. He hoisted the unconscious Rip over his shoulders and, to Oliver’s amazement, vanished from view in the blink of an eye. The billionaire stood there for a second, processing the situation, before turning to Sara, only to gawp at her.

“Hi, Ollie.” Sara smiled thinly at him. “Let’s get you up to speed.”

* * *

 

“So, you’re not dead.”

“Nope.”

“You were found by the League of Assassins, who nurtured you back to health and trained you. You came back to Star City for your family after the Undertaking —”

“— it was called Starling back in my time —”

“— what?” Oliver stared at her in bewilderment.

Sara shrugged. “Never mind. Keep going.”

“So, you came back, died, got resurrected — by Laurel  _ and _ Constantine, joined the Legends, a time-travelling group, and became their captain?”

“Yup.” Sara said it so casually Oliver couldn’t help but look at her as if she had grown a second head; which, judging by how his day was going, could actually be in the realm of possibility.

He exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “And where does she fit into this?” He looked down at Laurel, who was awake and frozen in time, like all the others. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, her expression terrified. It was hard to believe that she was the source of the deafening noise.

“When the particle accelerator hit Central City, it infused some of the population with special abilities, like Laurel, like Barry…”

“Barry?” Oliver looked at her in alarm. “You know Barry?”

Sara pursed her lips. “Early days,” she realised. “Doesn't matter. The point is that people's physiology have been altered, including Laurel’s. What you heard was a sonic scream emitted from her vocal chords. She was affected when she screamed from an injury, but...” Sara’s voice cracked. She gulped and regained her composure, “she activated it when she called out for me. Begged me not to leave. She screamed and screamed.”

“How do you know this?”

“I was there. Here… there.” 

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “That man. Rip Hunter. He said that Laurel died.”

“Yeah, she did. But it doesn't matter.”

“How can it not matter?” Oliver asked incredulously.

“Because time's changing, Oliver. I've seen it in Laurel, and I've seen it in you.”

“Me?” Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What's so different about me?”

“Well, you're no longer married to Felicity in the future, for one.”

Oliver's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He couldn't fathom the notion. Felicity was merely his friend. “I… what?” he stammered.

Sara’s lips quirked upwards. “There, you see? Major difference right there. Things are shifting, Ollie. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but — I just know that some things are  _ better _ than they were before, and I’m glad.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “Will it hurt her?”

“No,” Sara assured him. “I’ve used Caitlin’s serum to sedate her. It’ll take a bit for it to take effect when time starts moving again, but she’ll be fine. She’ll be  _ great. _ It’s the others you should be worried about. Mum and dad, they were lucky. They’d gone to get lunch, apparently. If they were still here…” Sara shuddered. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Sara,” Oliver said seriously, “why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s like Rip said, I’m a remnant from a lost timeline. The darkest timeline. My memories are being rewritten. Things are changing, our lives are changing. When I wake up, I’ll still be me, but I’ll have new memories; I’ll forget all about our meeting here, I think, and you will too. I have to make you forget.”

“But… why?” Oliver mumbled, his head spinning. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

“That’s time for you,” Sara said jauntily. “She’s a bitch, sometimes.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’ve missed you, Sara.”

Sara’s expression softened. She reached over and tenderly brushed his cheek. “I know you did. And I’m sorry I have to edit your memories, but I have to preserve the timeline. I’m a Legend, it’s my job.” She raised a gun at him, and he tensed. “It’s okay, it only stuns,” she assured him. “You won’t even feel it. We’re making sure people remember a meta-human emergence left the hospital damaged, but we’re erasing Laurel from their minds to protect her identity. We can’t have them figuring out my sister’s the Black Canary.”

“You know about that?”

“Of course. I may have been gone for five years, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t keep tabs on them. I even got to see her in action.”

Oliver nodded. It made sense to him. “Will I see you again?”

“Yeah. I just don’t know when.” Sara bumped his shoulder. “Look after Laurel. Don’t be a dick to her.”

“I won’t,” Oliver vowed.

“Good. One more thing, Oliver.” She looked at him seriously. “These guns have a ninety-nine percent wipe effect. You’ll retain at least one percent of the erased memories, which can resurface later if you try hard enough. I need you to know something. Something important.”

“What?”

“Don’t trust Harrison Wells. He’s not who he says he is.”

“Okay.” The response was quick, and he couldn’t exactly see anything wrong with Harrison Wells, but he trusted Sara. She was one of his oldest friends, and he had loved her. He still loved her.

Sara nodded in relief. “Sorry about the wedding, by the way. Tell Barry I’m sorry, too. I’ll make it up to you guys — oh.” She smiled reticently. “See? My memories are already changing.”

Oliver tensed. “What do you mean, wed —”

Sara pressed the trigger on the gun without hesitation. There was bright flash of blue light, and everything went dark.

* * *

 

“Mr. Queen?”

Oliver’s eyes snapped open in alarm. He moved to choke the stranger in defence, but an arm wrapped around his hand firmly, holding him in place. He looked around the room sluggishly. His eyes landed on Diggle, who had his arm pinned, a serious expression etched on his bodyguard’s face.

“Diggle?” Oliver murmured. “What…?”

“Mr. Queen.” There was that voice again. Oliver turned to see a brown-haired woman looking down at him coldly. Caitlin. He shook his head to clear the dazed fog. He wasn’t entirely sure how he knew her name.

“Er,” he coughed, “yes?”

“I’m Doctor Caitlin Snow. We briefly met during the situation in the hospital?” the woman said hesitantly. She sounded so unsure her sentence sounded like a question.

Oliver found himself nodding. He remembered that.

“Do you… remember who it was?” she broached sensitively.

“Laurel,” he said immediately. Her name rolled off his tongue naturally, and it jolted his tired body awake. He straightened and looked up at Caitlin, shying out of Diggle’s grasp. “Why? Is she hurt?”

“No!” Caitlin assured him. “She’s fine. She’s out of her coma, but we’ve sedated her so that she doesn’t damage more property. It’s a precaution. I only asked, because… well...”

“Because everybody seems to have forgotten that Ms. Lance was the saboteur.” Harrison Wells rolled into the room, a wry smile on his face. “Hello, Mr. Queen. Are you feeling better? You took quite a hit protecting Miss West from that falling debris.”

“I’m fine,” Oliver responded. Strangely enough, he did feel fine. He’d expected at least  _ some _ bruising from the debris, but he had managed to come out relatively unscathed. The only noticeable reminder of the event that he could feel was the bruise on his cheek.

“I’m glad,” Harrison said softly. For some reason, it made Oliver’s skin crawl. “Mr. Lance and Ms. Drake have come and gone. They’ve wished you a safe recovery, and have gone to get some spare clothes for Ms. Lance.”

Oliver looked between them with renewed interest. “Clothes?”

“They’re keeping her here, man,” Diggle responded gruffly.

“Only until she’s recovered,” Harrison added softly. “Ms. Lance is a victim of the particle accelerator explosion. She’s been infused with dark matter radiation, a new phenomenon in the scientific field. We only wish to help her come to terms with her powers safely before she can return to Star City.” He narrowed his eyes at Diggle. “Unless you’d prefer for her to bring court offices down during her cases?”

Diggle grunted.

“If you’re going to help her, fine,” Oliver said stoically, “but have her parents agreed to this?”

“Well, they wouldn’t be picking up her clothes otherwise, would they?” Caitlin snarked. Oliver levelled a glare at her but, to his surprise, she reciprocated with an equal amount of coldness. The doctor turned and swiftly walked out of the room.

Harrison sighed heavily. “I apologise for Ms Snow’s... abrasiveness, shall we say.  She’s got a lot on her plate the moment.”

Oliver merely shrugged off his remark. “Thank you, for helping Laurel.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Harrison bowed his head. “Ms. Smoak is currently out buying a specific set of clothes and food for Ms. Lance when she awakes. She said that she’d meet you at the station.”

Oliver nodded briskly. “May I see Laurel?”

“Of course. She’s in the next room along.” With that, Harrison Wells bid them a final curt goodbye and left the room.

Diggle nudged his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Oliver had a frown on his face. “There’s just something off with that guy.”

“Who, Wells?”

“Yeah…”

Diggle raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t see anything wrong.”

Oliver merely hummed. He didn’t know why, but there was a niggling in the back of his mind, a voice, imploring him not to trust the scientist.

“And anyway, I was asking how  _ you _ were.”

“Oh.” Oliver tapped his forehead.  “I’ve got a headache, but that’s it.”

“And the bruise?”

“No idea,” Oliver said truthfully. He pushed himself to his feet. “Come on. I want to see Laurel.”

Diggle nodded, and the pair strode out of the room. They turned left in the narrow hallway and walked into the next room along as instructed. The room was a makeshift medical bay, with a cabinet of scalpels and other medical equipment in the corner. A pair of hospital beds lay in the corner, one of them was occupied by Laurel, while the other was empty.

Oliver felt his breath hitched as he edged closer. Despite being in a coma for three weeks, she looked surprisingly healthy. Her heart monitor, to his relief, beeped steadily, and her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Her lips were parted slightly, like they always did when she was asleep. It was one of the first things he had noticed when they started dating. Oliver sighed. He had put off the idea of seeing her for so long that the sight of her left him breathless. 

He tucked a stray strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, trying to formulate the words he wanted to say to her, but found himself unable to. “Laurel…” he whispered, pressing his lips to the back of her hand, reminding his racing heart that she was alive and breathing. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost her. He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. “Get well soon. Come back to us. Come back to  _ me." _

They had agreed to simply be friends, but that didn’t mean Oliver ever stopped loving her. He coughed, pointedly ignoring Diggle’s solemn look. He rearranged Laurel’s blanket, and left the room, with Diggle right behind him.

As they were led out of STAR Labs by technician Cisco Ramon, Oliver found his thoughts drifting to Barry. He thought about the excessive nodding, babbling, and broad, over-excited grin that sent slight flutters rippling through his stomach.

“Hey,” he said to Diggle as they rounded an intersection. “You go meet up with Felicity. I’ll catch you up.”

Diggle looked at him suspiciously. “Where are you going?”

“There’s one last thing I have to do.”

* * *

 

The hospital room was surprisingly empty. According to a passing nurse, the family had left to discuss certain details with STAR Labs.

Oliver stepped into the room and quietly approached the comatose Barry. He had calmed from his earlier fit, and was resting peacefully. It was a relief to see. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here,” he admitted quietly, “but I wanted you to know, if you can hear me somewhere in that coma, that I got your… gift. And I liked it — and… I’m sorry for how I treated you. I want you to know that I appreciate it. Appreciate what you’ve done, for me and Star City.” 

He slowly reached over and brushed his fingers along Barry’s temple, pushing his fringe to the side. He thought of Barry’s shimmering green eyes, the elation in his voice when he was excited, and the annoying vigorous nods. His own lips quirked up in amusement.

Oliver leaned down to Barry’s ear and whispered, “thank you, Barry.” He pulled his gift out of his pocket and gently pressed it into Barry’s hands. He wrapped the younger man’s fingers into a fist, shielding the gift from curious eyes. “Use it whenever you want,” Oliver said. “I’ll be waiting for when you do.”

With that, Oliver turned and left the hospital room. He felt fulfilled, and he was glad that he could finally express what he wanted to tell Barry, even if the other man was in a coma. It put him at ease. 

Oliver knew that he probably wouldn’t visit or see the C.S.I again, but he was grateful to have the little time they had spent together.


	7. Flash Forward

The following weeks were tumultuous for Oliver and the rest of his team.

Laurel woke up two days after his visit to Central City, and decided to remain there for a while longer until she found a way to control her new power, a supersonic scream. Oliver had been baffled by the news the first time he had heard about it, but Laurel had assured him that she was just as confused as he was.

He didn’t visit her immediately. First, he had to deal with a very much alive Sara Lance, their mysterious blonde vigilante who had been skulking around the city for months watching over Laurel and Quentin. It explained why she only appeared when her family were in danger. The League of Assassins arrived soon after, gunning for Sara under the orders of Nyssa Al Ghul. They were defeated by the Arrow and Sara, with the help of Quentin, but their presence revealed a troubling fact — Sara had no qualms about killing, which unsettled him. Before they could discuss it, however, Sara left Star City to protect her family, without visiting Laurel as suggested by Oliver.

He didn’t have time to dwell on her, however. Mark Sheffer, the non-conformist terrorist known as Shrapnel, came to Star City and bombed two government buildings. He was stopped by the Arrow and sent to ARGUS for his crimes.

Oliver then took Roy Harper under his wing. The boy had been injected with Mirakuru by the man in the skull mask and Cyrus Gold during the centrifuge incident, and the only reason Oliver had managed to save him from death was because of Barry, which he was grateful for. Roy proved to be a tricky student; he angered quickly and his enhanced strength posed a threat for those around him, but he eventually joined the crusade after a scuffle with Bronze Tiger that led to Oliver revealing his secret identity.

Before they could celebrate, Oliver and Diggle rushed to Central City when they learned that Nyssa Al Ghul had tracked Sara down, and wanted her lover to return with her. When Laurel had discovered her sister was alive and her friends didn’t bother to tell her, her anger had manifested in a devastating cry that almost destroyed the dilapidated Ferris Air hangar they used to train her ability. 

The two sisters eventually worked together to rescue their mother from Nyssa after Oliver had been incapacitated. Although Dinah never required assistance in the first place (she had her own encounters with the League of Assassins in the past that nobody had known about), she was elated to see her daughters alive and on the road to reconciliation. Laurel begrudgingly accepted the relationship Oliver and Sara had developed, albeit after a very explosive argument with Oliver, and agreed that her sister should take her place on the team until she was ready to come back. Nyssa released Sara from the League, and left soon after, making good on her promise to her.

When they got home, Felicity nervously revealed that Thea’s biological father was Malcolm Merlyn, which devastated Oliver and prompted him to practically disown his mother. After that, the team completed various missions, battling and apprehending various villains such as William Tockman, before Oliver encountered Slade Wilson in his family home, conversing with Moira. He managed to get a message to Felicity, and Sara, Diggle and Roy soon arrived as backup. Their plot to execute Slade was foiled by Oliver’s feelings and the appearance of the vigilante Ravager, who had knocked Diggle out before he could take the shot. Ravager was an unknown assailant who had been operating for several months, though she mostly targeted the Black Canary, for reasons Laurel refused to disclose.

A few weeks later, Laurel returned to Star City in time for the trial of the recently arrested Frank Bertinelli. His daughter Helena, the Huntress, arrived soon after, and took the courthouse hostage. The Arrow and Sara arrived, but Helena drove them both away. She was eventually defeated by Black Canary, who prevented Sara from murdering yet again. To Helena’s dismay, Frank had been shot dead in a scuffle, robbing her of the chance to avenge her deceased family. Ever the compassionate one, Laurel blackmailed the corrupt ADA Spencer into using her contacts to lower Helena’s prison sentence. Laurel and Helena had far more history than Oliver anticipated, and he realised, not for the first time, that his presence made things worse for them and their paths to recovery. It depressed him to know that Laurel would flourish without him, because he wasn’t able to let go of his love for her. He told Laurel as such, and while she reminded him that she had forgiven him a long time ago, she returned to Central City to hone her Canary Cry. Oliver tried not to let on how much that hurt.

A month later, and everything came crashing down for Oliver, his family and his team. Slade kidnapped Thea, revealed it to the public during the mayoral election, and somehow managed to evade arrest. He had no problems whatsoever reminding Oliver that everything that was happening to him, every action that Slade took, was his fault. His incompetence had led to Ivo getting his hands on the Mirakuru, and his negligence to pay attention had almost cost Slade dearly. Ivo had tried to apprehend Shado, but she had defeated him and his men single-handedly and fled. In his rage, he picked up someone he had kidnapped as insurance against ARGUS Agent Adeline Kane and her team — fifteen year old Rose Wilson. 

Forced to choose between her and Sara, and oblivious to her connection to Slade, Oliver chose Sara. Ivo shot the teenage girl in the arm, and was ready to shoot her in the head when an angry, Mirakuru-infused Slade and a pissed off Adeline surfaced simultaneously, taking out most of the men. Ivo had taken that moment to flee back to the Amazo, leaving the group to deal with the fallout.

To make matters worse, Oliver finally learned why Laurel and his mother despised Isabel Rochev so much. She had manipulated him into giving up his company and proceeded to discredit him. Not only that, but she was Ravager, and she was assisting Slade in his crucible. Thea learned about her true heritage and lashed out at her family, while a distressed Roy left Star City behind. But it didn’t stop there. Slade managed to get his hands on another centrifuge to mass-produce more Mirakuru samples, and Roy, who had been squatting in Bludhaven. 

Oliver managed to rescue Roy with the help of Diggle, but that proved to be troublesome when the younger man succumbed to the Mirakuru and went on a rampage across the city. His actions threatened the life of Thea and her friends, forcing Oliver to sedate him. Sara had tried to kill him — believing that death was the only way it could end — and although Oliver understood her view, he didn't agree. Sara realised that, and she made the decision to break up with him and leave Team Arrow.

Things continued to take a spiral when Slade abducted the Queens and tied them up in the forest, forcing a decision upon Oliver that was similar to the ultimatum Ivo had given him on the island. He had refused to make a choice, and his mother had stood up, taking the choice out of his hands. Oliver and Thea were powerless to stop Slade from plunging his sword through her heart, killing her instantly. The ordeal had left its mark. Oliver hid himself away in his secondary lair, avoiding Moira’s funeral out of shame. Thea had left Star City behind for a new life, somewhere, and he was glad. He, on the other hand, was ready to give himself up to Slade, despite his friends' protests. He went to the meeting place, willingly, ready for it all to be over with.

But it wasn’t over.

Laurel returned, and reminded him of why he started the crusade in the first place. She also gave him evidence that Sebastian Blood was aiding Slade, a case she had been working on for a year. A tense dinner conversation revealed that the man was too far gone, and he had to be eliminated as well. Arrow and his team mobilised over their meeting spot in the sewers to bury Blood's men alive, but they were intercepted once again by Ravager and the Mirakuru soldier while Slade led an attack on the city. Laurel and Isabel fought each other to a standstill, while Oliver fought off Mirakuru soldiers in the sewers with the help of an unlikely ally: Cissie King-Jones.

With the arrival of the Mirakuru cure devised by STAR Labs and the arrival of Laurel’s mentor Wildcat, her friend Tom Bronson, Agent Adeline, Sara, Nyssa and the League of Assassins, Team Arrow were able to reclaim their city and stop Slade before Waller’s drones destroyed the city. Slade was cured of the Mirakuru, and imprisoned by ARGUS on Lian Yu, screaming about his eventual vengeance. Star City was safe.

But life moved on, it always did.

Weeks turned to months, and Star City changed with the times.

Sebastian and Kate Spencer had been killed amidst the scuffle. Nobody missed them. Isabel had escaped after her battle with Laurel. She had narrowly avoided death at the hands of Nyssa and disappeared altogether. ARGUS cleared up the remaining Mirakuru soldiers, giving the team some reprieve.

Sara bid her family a heartfelt farewell as she returned to Nanda Parbat with Nyssa. The drama and arguments were a thing of the past, and she was ready to consider Laurel’s observation: she could be a hero, if she put her mind to it. Quentin had to be admitted into the hospital for internal bleeding following the attack, and had been placed into a medically-induced coma for a few weeks. When he awoke, he was promoted to Captain in the SCPD for his bravery. One of his first acts was to publicly recognise the Arrow and Black Canary’s heroic deeds and lift the anti-vigilante task-force.

Thea, to Oliver’s knowledge, was still out in the world somewhere, trying to find her place. Whenever he brought her up to Roy, the latter often got fidgety and nervous. He supposed it was simply because Roy missed her. Despite that emotional obstacle, he was quickly improving his skills as a vigilante, receiving extensive training from Oliver, Laurel, and Sara whenever she was in town. He even received a suit of his own, courtesy of the Wildcats. With the Mirakuru out of his system, Roy was also a calmer, more level-headed individual, and less spontaneous.

Verdant was reclaimed and put in the capable hands of Cissie until Thea returned. The girl had proven to be a very good ally, helping around whenever possible and teaching Roy new archery tricks whenever possible. Sin helped her with the manual labour around the club, and left the more technical details to her. The duo still went out on their own investigations with Roy on more than one occasion. Quentin affectionately called them the 'Teen Titans' for their efforts, a name that didn’t appeal to any of them.

Laurel had been temporarily elected as Kate’s successor as District Attorney. She had always been favoured by her superiors, and they were attempting to make the position permanent. Laurel was unsure if she would take the permanent position — there was still a lot she had to take care of before she could prioritise a commitment that big, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the role vacant for a corrupted person to seize. Her alter-ego as the Black Canary was going well. She continued to work often with Team Arrow, and sometimes teamed up with Ted and Tom, for old time’s sake. 

Laurel also kept an eye on Roy, Cissie and Sin, making sure they didn’t get seriously injured, and training them to minimise that chance. The three had jokingly taken to referring to her as ‘den mother’. She also continued her training with Cisco, Caitlin and Dr. Wells at STAR Labs, learning to control her newfound powers with greater skill and precision. She’d taken to Caitlin especially, empathising with the woman’s grief over the loss of her loved one, and the pair had formed a close friendship.

Meanwhile, Oliver continued to protect his city as the Arrow, his fighting spirit restored. He vowed to save the city his mother had tried to nurture in her own way, and he also promised to never become as manipulative as she was. He had originally started a crusade in his father’s name, alone. It was bitter, harsh, and unrelenting, but now he had friends to shoulder the pain, friends that he could fall back on. He was grateful, but he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.

Then, one day, he received a call.

The Arrow, Roy and Black Canary had just stopped Count Vertigo from blowing up Star City stadium with help from Sara. They were still buzzing from the success when they all went to visit John and Lyla’s newborn baby girl. The moment was perfect, and the happiness left Oliver almost breathless, but he couldn’t shake the pang of sadness in his heart, the feeling of loneliness. He stepped out of the hospital room to get some air, to sort his thoughts out, when his phone suddenly started buzzing.

He accepted the call with a sigh, and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

_ "It’s Barry. Barry Allen." _

Oliver froze in shock. Barry had been in a coma for nine months. The last time he had seen the C.S.I was back in January when he had visited him and Laurel. He hadn’t expected to hear from the man ever again, and had started to forget him, but now that his voice filtered through the phone, memories of their previous encounters hit him like a ton of bricks.

Barry continued despite his silence. He sounded unnerved. _ "I woke up. I could use some advice." _

He could have easily said no. He wasn’t close to Barry by any means, but he felt obligated. The man had saved his life, and Roy’s life. He was Felicity and Laurel’s friend, and he sounded distressed. Not to mention the fact that he had come all the way to Star City just for Oliver’s advice.

In a split-second, Oliver made his decision. 

“I’ll be right there.”

* * *

 

Finding Barry hadn’t been exceptionally difficult. He was camped out on the roof of an apartment block, pacing back and forth nervously. Oliver joined him on the rooftop, and tried to ignore the skip in his heartbeat when Barry grinned in relief the moment their eyes met.

“I see you’ve found my gift,” Oliver said gruffly, the hint of a smile on his face.

“Uh-huh.” Barry held up a crumpled piece of paper, his expression sheepish. “Oliver Queen’s personal phone number. There are _a lot_ of people that would literally kill me for this.”

“I know a good vigilante,” Oliver joked. Barry looked surprised by that. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to figure Oliver out. Oliver coughed, and said, “Barry?”

“Yeah?”

“You said you’d wanted my advice,” he reminded calmly.

Barry blinked. “Oh! Right yeah. Well, the thing is…” he shifted from foot to foot with nervous energy. He huffed a breath of laughter derisively, and scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know where to start,” he admitted, sounding terrified.

“Start from the beginning,” Oliver stated gently.

Barry nodded, gulping a deep lungful of air, and started pacing. “Well, if we’re going about this personally, it started with the particle accelerator. Chronologically, I guess it all started with Lady Gaga…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the six-part prologue arc, and the Arrow season 2 portion of this story. This short interlude was designed to fill in the gaps of what happened between chapters. The unseen events. 
> 
> As it stands, I have a Thea and Cissie one-shot story planned, as well a story detailing Laurel's time at STAR Labs, and a multi-chapter story on Slade Wilson's siege of Star City. Spanning from City of Blood to Unthinkable, it provides an insight into some of the events that are mentioned in this chapter, specifically the tale of Cissie King-Jones' involvement with Team Arrow, and the battle between Laurel and Isabel Rochev. I know that the audience I've garnered here are primarily for Olivarry, but I'd appreciate it if you guys checked these stories out when they're released.
> 
> There are some bits of (lengthy, you've been warned) trivia in this chapter I'd like to explain:
> 
> 1) Dinah Drake: In the comics, she was the original Black Canary from Earth-2 who posed as a criminal to infiltrate criminal hangouts and bring them to justice. She died from cancer, but not before passing on the mantle of Black Canary onto her daughter, Dinah Laurel Lance. In this iteration, Dinah was a former boxer and former undercover agent, heralded for her ability to bring down major criminal masterminds. Inspired by the tales of her old babysitter, Todd Rice, she operated under the guise of Black Siren, and partnered with her good friend Ted Grant. This went on until the birth of her first daughter, Laurel Lance, in 1985. On her last mission, Dinah met Talia Al Ghul, a formidable assassin on the hunt for a defected League of Assassin member known as Aquarius. Dinah impressed Talia enough to receive some training before they parted ways and Dinah hung up her costume to focus on her daughter.
> 
> 2) Ted Grant: Unlike the CW shows, Ted Grant is NOT a thirty-something lover boy for Laurel. He is the older, grittier, professional boxer that trained Laurel and various other heroes like his comic counterpart. The younger, friendlier, compassionate Ted of the CW series has instead been retconned to my own version of Tom Bronson, Ted's son from the comics.
> 
> 3) Helena Bertinelli: In this canon, Helena started her crusade of vengeance in April 2011, the year Laurel started her vigilante crusade. The two cross paths when Laurel tries to bring down Frank Bertinelli for his numerous crimes, and they realised that they had similar goals, but two completely different methods of operating. Their relationship is extremely tense during their first two encounters, before Helena left to hunt down her fleeing father as his unknown pursuer. They both return for the Arrow season 1 episodes, where she gets her outfit and crossbow training, but none of that rubbish Oliver romance stuff. They have a one-night stand and that's it, which I feel is truer to Helena's character. 
> 
> She battles Laurel once more, on the night she cripples Mckenna Hall, though they're both in their official vigilante personas for the first time. Helena respects Laurel enough to keep her secret from the others, and the same is true for Laurel. Even if they have methods that oppose each other, they have a common thread connecting them: their thirst for justice, which is another reason Laurel stops Sara from killing Helena in Bird of Prey. You can bet I'm bringing the traditional Laurel and Helena friendship to the table, but it's going to take a little while to sow. For now, enjoy these seeds.
> 
> 4) The "Teen Titans" line is just a throwaway bit of fun, don't worry. Nothing significant will come out of it for now. I just really liked the dynamic Roy, Thea and Sin had in season 2 as a trio of independent investigators, and I wanted to explore that here, with Cissie as their official fourth member.
> 
> Next up: The Flash pilot! See you then. I hope you're enjoying the story so far, and my changes to the timeline to keep things fresh.


	8. Wear a Mask

Barry wasn’t having the best of days.

After parting ways with Laurel at the train station, and aside from the fact that he was late to work for the umpteenth time, inadvertently managing to anger a fellow officer (in his defence, he had no idea the pen was a gift from his deceased father) in the process, he missed the particle accelerator startup because Iris had her purse robbed and he was required to provide a statement. He had crawled up to his lab, intending to wait for the torrential rainstorm to cease before journeying home, when all hell broke loose.

Barry wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. All he remembered before everything faded into a hazy blur was the large burst of orange energy pouring out of S.T.A.R Labs, and his proximity to the skylight before every bone in his body cried out in searing, excruciating agony and everything went dark.

It was a strange sensation, to sleep so deeply and dreamlessly that you essentially travel from instance of time to the next. Barry was a staunch sci-fi fan, and believed in the merits sleep could provide for future research into the mechanics of travelling to the future, but he pretty much tossed that theory away when he was ridiculed by his university professor.

Barry was really starting to wish that he hadn’t been so self-conscious.

When he jolted awake with a loud gasp, his heart was hammering erratically in his chest, his entire body was drenched in sweat, and he was in an unfamiliar room surrounded by two strangers, with Lady Gaga blaring from a computer speaker.

“Ohh my god!” a young man with long black hair exclaimed, gaping at Barry in shock.

“Where am I?” Barry asked. He looked down, and realised his body was littered with tubes and wires. He pawed at them, trying to tear them off, when a woman barged into his line of vision and shone a torch directly in his eyes, speaking loudly into his ears. Barry winced, and listened to her make a brief medical examination before he had enough and clambered out of the bed. His vision swam, and he almost collapsed back onto the pillow.

“Hey, hey, hey. Whoa, whoa, relax.” The younger looking man hurried over and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, pushing the insistent woman out of the way. “Everything’s okay, man. You’re at S.T.A.R Labs.”

“S.T.A.R Labs?” Barry repeated blankly. The pair helped him up, and the woman started to examine his ears. He took note of the man’s casual black t-shirt and frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cisco Ramon,” he introduced, before pointing to the woman opposite him. “She’s Caitlin — Dr. Snow.” 

“I need you to urinate in this,” Caitlin ordered brusquely, holding up a small blue cup.

“Not this second,” Cisco said insistently, snatching the cup from her.

Barry was quickly fed up with their bickering, and pushed past them, trying to think clearly. There was a fog in his brain, and clarity seemed like a lost art. “Wait — what is — what is  _ happening? _ What is going on?”

“You were struck by lightning, dude,” Cisco said eagerly.

_ "Wha—” _ Barry breathed incredulously. He spun around and froze, his eyes glued to a computer screen displaying his stomach. His very muscular stomach. “Lightning… gave me abs?”

Caitlin flew forward eagerly, patting him down like he was an experiment ready for dissection. “Your muscles should be atrophied, but instead they’re in a chronic and unexplained state of cellular regeneration.”

“Come here, have a seat.” Cisco led the flustered Barry to a chair before he had a chance to process the doctor’s words. 

As he did so, Barry heard the sound of crunching paper and looked down at his clenched fist — had he been clenching it the whole time? — and relaxed his hand to reveal the scrunched up ball of paper in his hands. He unfurled it, and stared in disbelief at the set of numbers, with the words “Oliver Queen’s number” underlined at the top. Oliver the vigilante, the one who had choked him after Barry had saved his life with rat poison, the man he had a crush on and left a gift for, and Barry was holding a piece of paper with his number on it. He wondered if it was a joke, when Cisco spoke:

“You were in a coma.”

The S.T.A.R Labs employee had dropped the bombshell so casually that Barry almost let it fly over his head. Once he processed the words, he whipped his head around in shock. “For how long?”

“Nine months.”

The voice was new, but surprisingly familiar. Barry, Caitlin and Cisco all turned to see Harrison Wells smiling benevolently at them. Barry was unable to contain his shock. Not only was the timescale of his coma a lot to process, the wheelchair-bound Harrison Wells left him dizzy. The last time he had seen the man — which was allegedly nine months ago — he had been walking freely without a hindrance.

“Welcome back, Mr Allen.” He smiled warmly. “We have a lot to discuss.”

_ That _ was an understatement.

* * *

 

Barry was given a tour of the dilapidated, rundown S.T.A.R Labs by Wells, who informed him of the events of the past nine months. The particle accelerator had apparently malfunctioned, and the outburst of energy seeded a thundercloud above, resulting in the lightning bolt that struck him. FEMA had moved in and declared the facility a class four hazardous location, resulting in the once-renowned professor being ridiculed and discredited, his heralded facility in a pitiful state of disrepair. Barry could only listen in horror as he learned about the seventeen deceased people and the countless injured.

Wells then led him back to the room Barry woke up in, explaining the reason he had been transferred to S.T.A.R Labs. “The hospital was undergoing unexplainable power outages every time you were going into cardiac arrest, which was actually a misdiagnosis because, you see, you weren’t flatlining, Barry; your heartbeat was moving too fast for the EKG to register it.”

Barry frowned. It made some sense, and it explained why his heart was thumping in his chest even after he’d calmed down. The door slid open, and he followed the scientist into the room.

“Now, I’m not the most popular person in town these days, but Detective West and his kids gave me permission to bring you here, where we were able to stabilise you.”

“Iris?” Barry asked breathlessly.

“Iris, yes. And her brother, Wallace. They both came to see you quite often.”

“She talks a lot,” Caitlin complained as she handed Wells a flask.

“Also, she’s hot,” Cisco supplied appreciatively. “Wally’s cool, too.”

“He’s loud,” Caitlin added sourly. “I can’t get any work done when he’s around.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Cisco countered. Barry tuned out their bickering, already preoccupied by his own internal turmoil. He had been so distracted by his predicament that he pushed his family to the back of his mind. They must have been so worried about him.

“I need to go,” he decided. 

He had managed to reach the door before Caitlin protested. “No, you can’t!”

“No, no, Caitlin’s right,” Wells agreed, swivelling around to face Barry. “No, now that you’re awake, we need to do more tests. You’re still going through changes. There is so much that we don’t know.”

“I’m fine,” Barry shrugged reassuringly, edging closer to the door. “Really, I feel normal. Thank you for saving my life.” He hurried down the hallway, before reconsidering and turning back. He poked his head through the doorway. “Can I keep the sweatshirt?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, keep the sweatshirt,” Wells said.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Barry hurried away from S.T.A.R Labs as quickly as he could, throwing on some clothes he found at home and making a beeline for CC Jitters, Iris’ workplace. He didn’t feel intimidated by the scientists, but they were exceptionally eccentric and he was too frazzled to fully appreciate it in his current state, and he really wanted to see Iris, Wally and Joe. They had taken him in when nobody else would, during the bleakest period of his life, and they had infused such happiness in his life that he was fully indebted to them. Joe was like a father to him, Wally was the brother he never had, and Iris was — and always would be — his best friend. She’d been part of his life for so long it felt natural that she was the first person he went to see.

And Barry knew, the moment he walked in and Iris quite literally dropped everything to greet him with a warm hug, that he had been right.

Iris looked at him in disbelief. “You’re awake!” A faint huff of laughter escaped her lips. “Why didn’t S.T.A.R Labs call us?”

“I just woke up,” he told her.

“Should you even be on your feet?” she asked worriedly.

“Iris, I’m — I’m okay.” He grinned brightly at her, but noticed how quickly her face fell.

“I watched you die, Barry,” she revealed sadly. “You kept dying — your heart kept stopping.”

Barry smiled, and pressed her hand to his chest, directly above his heart. “It’s still beating,” he reassured her.

“It feels really fast.”

Barry was about to respond, when he noticed a blonde waitress behind Iris drop a tray of food and drinks. Peculiarly, everything appeared to slow down around him, like a television programme on slow-motion. He whipped his head back in surprise, and turned back to Iris, just in time to hear a mug shatter on the ground.

“Are you okay, Karen?” Iris asked in concern.

The waitress, Karen, had miraculously managed to save the food and all but one of the drinks. She smiled brightly at Iris, grabbing a cloth from the counter. “Yeah, I got it.”

Iris looked torn between wanting to help her friend and wanting to stay with Barry. Fortunately, the woman Karen had bumped into, kneeled down to help her clean up the mess, concluding her dilemma.

“Dad and Wally are going to be  _ so _ happy to see you.” Iris’ grin was infectious, and Barry felt his excitement grow. “I’m gonna get my stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.” She hurried away, leaving Barry to process what he witnessed alone. He looked down at Karen in bewilderment, and exhaled loudly.

“I am  _ so _ sorry, Karen,” he heard the woman next to Karen say. “I should’ve looked where I was going and —”

“Lucy, honestly, it’s fine,” Karen assured her. “Accidents happen.”

Barry smiled at that. He hadn’t known Karen Danvers for very long — she had migrated to Central City from the countryside and he had bumped into her frequently at Jitters and around town with Iris — but he could tell that she was a bright, earnest individual who looked out for others. Iris often sung platitudes about her. He considered going over to help when Iris reappeared with her coat and purse.

“Okay,” she said eagerly. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” He let Iris loop her arm around his. Sparing a brief glance behind him to see Karen and Lucy — who looked strikingly familiar to Lucy Lane, head of Lane’s Law Firms and, to his knowledge, Laurel’s boss — Barry and Iris left the coffee shop and headed to the CCPD precinct.

* * *

 

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” Joe sighed as he tightly wrapped his arms around and held Barry for a long time. Barry patted his back, to assure him that he was real, and eventually pulled away with a bright smile.

“Yeah, that was quite the nap you took there, baby face,” Officer Vukuvich commented teasingly, “and you still look twelve.”

Barry laughed good-naturedly. He knew the cops were only teasing, and were genuinely glad to see him. As the only C.S.I in the precinct, he had worked closely with most of them on various cases, and they were well accustomed to his babbling antics.

“You look okay.” Joe put a hand on his shoulder and peered into his eyes seriously. “Are you really?"

“Yeah,” Barry confirmed. 

Joe still looked unconvinced, but his attention was taken when a police officer approached him and reported the five-fifteen situation at the Gold City Bank. Two people were already dead and there was a storm that seemed to increasingly worsen with time. “I’m sorry, Barry, I’ve gotta run.”

“Do you need my help?”

“No, you take it easy,” Joe ordered. “There’ll be plenty for you to do once you settle in. Let’s go, partner!” He gave Iris a reassuring pat on the shoulder and left, replaced by another familiar officer.

“Hey, Allen! Glad to see you.”

Barry smiled. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie grinned brightly, and directed it to Iris. “Hey, Iris.”

“Detective,” Iris nodded brusquely, pointedly looking away from him. “You should go. My dad doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Eddie nodded, chastised. “Glad you’re back,” he told Barry and, with a quick pat on the C.S.I’s shoulder, disappeared out the door. Barry watched him go with a smile, a little confused as to why Joe had referred to him as a partner, when he already had Fred Chyre. His attention caught onto a small display case, and he approached it sadly, his expression quickly dropping. 

It was a memorial for Chyre, the very man he had just been thinking about. Two pictures were displayed in the case, with a golden plaque that read ‘never forgotten’.

“The night of the explosion, Clyde Mardon shot and killed Chyre. Mardon and his brother tried to escape and their plane crashed.”

Barry sighed sadly. Casualties were common in their line of work, but that didn’t make it any less painful. He bowed his head in respect. Chyre had been kind to him, and often helped him out if they were assigned on the same case.

“Iris,” Vukuvich called out. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah,” Iris nodded and walked over to help him with whatever he needed. Barry was still too focused on the memorial.

“Hey, Barry,” Daryl Gutierrez, a transfer officer from Gotham City, smiled warmly at him. “Good to see you.”

Barry smiled back, and looked down just in time to see an apprehended criminal reach for another officer’s gun, his hands clasping securely around it. Barry felt his anger boil, and the next thing he knew, everything blurred into a single instance, and the man was suddenly crashing into the table screaming profanities, with papers flying around him.

“You okay?” Iris asked worriedly.

Barry stared at her for a moment, perturbed and frazzled, before his brain finally caught up with the situation. “Oh, I’m fine. I—I just need some air. But I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

He hurried away before Iris could respond.

* * *

 

Barry’s day had gotten even more complicated.

Not only did he have to pick up the pieces of his life after the dizzying fallout of his nine-month old coma, he had to deal with his sudden ability to travel between one location to another in the blink of an eye. His discovery of his ability had been less than flattering. After leaving Iris, he stumbled into the alleyway and crashed into a car, and then ran straight into the back of a laundry van on the other end of the street while testing his speed. Amazed and mystified by his power, he hurried back to S.T.A.R Labs (at a respectable pace) and blurted out the events from his point of view.

To their credit, they hadn’t immediately sent him to a mental institution.

“How’s it fit?” Cisco called out. Barry took a deep breath, psyching himself up for the humiliation, before he awkwardly stepped out of the trailer, dressed in a tight red runner’s outfit with a helmet and black goggles. He looked ridiculous, and he shifted self-consciously when three pairs of eyes landed on him.

“It’s a little snug,” he commented dryly.

“At least you’ll be moving so fast, no one’ll see you,” Cisco teased. He led Barry down the field, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “See, you thought the world was slowing down. It wasn’t. You were moving so fast it only looked like everyone else was standing still.” He gestured towards their makeshift research table. “Dr. Wells will be monitoring your energy output, and Caitlin your vitals.”

Barry turned to him in confusion. “What do you do?”

“I make the toys, man,” Cisco grinned eagerly. He pulled out a circular communication device with a lightning bolt, which Barry found amusing. “Check it.  _ This _ is a two-way headset with a camera I modified typically designed to combat battlefield impulse noise, or in your case, potential sonic booms, which would be  _ awesome." _

Barry chuckled as the scientist took his helmet and walked away, quickly replaced by Caitlin who checked his suit was in working order. Barry couldn’t help but stare at her awkwardly.

“What?” she asked without even looking at him.

“Nothing,” he said quietly, offering her a small smile. “I just noticed you don’t smile too much.”

Caitlin tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, seemingly irritated by his observation. “My once promising career in bioengineering is over, my boss is in a wheelchair for life… the explosion that put you in a coma also killed my fiancé.”

Barry, feeling chastised, quietened.

“So, this blank expression kinda feels like the way to go,” she finished, moving away from him. Barry exhaled the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and looked down, ashamed for calling out the woman’s intensity when she had every right to be reclusive.

“Mr Allen,” Dr Wells said with a wry smile, jarring Barry from his thoughts, “while I am extremely eager to determine your full range of abilities, I do caution restraint.”

Barry nodded. It was fair advice. “Yeah.”

Not long after, he got into his position on the running track they had devised from the abandoned Ferris Air hangar. The place had seen better days. There were craters, scorch marks and broken pieces of gravel across the field, like a trail of destructive breadcrumbs. Cisco had mentioned an experiment of some kind in passing, but didn’t elaborate. Barry looked back and took a shuddering breath, watching nervously as Wells casually slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Barry took another breath to steady himself, and took off running. 

He raced down the track, the world blurring around him. He whooped in joy, elated by the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Wally had always been the one who wanted to speed through things, and Barry hadn’t understood him until now. What was once a lifelong tactic of taking things at a slow, respectable pace was replaced by a yearning — an addiction — to go faster.

Unfortunately, the speed quickly dredged up unwanted memories and soon Barry found himself reliving the night of his mother’s murder. The now-familiar gust of wind, the terrified screams, and the yellow man in the blur. It was all too much for Barry to handle, and he crashed into a row of barrels before he knew what was happening. The barrels exploded immediately upon contact. Barry cried out in pain, supporting his broken hand, wondering how it had all gone so wrong.

* * *

 

“It looks like you had a distal radius fracture.”

Barry noticed the past tense and looked at the computer tablet Caitlin held out for him. “Had?”

Caitlin switched diagrams. “It’s healed. In three hours.”

Barry looked up at her in alarm. “How is that even possible?”

“We don’t know,” Caitlin admitted, “yet.”

“You really need to learn how to stop,” Cisco commented as he passed, making Barry smile as he rubbed his hand. 

He looked up and noticed a second bed in the medical bay, the covers neatly folded. He frowned curiously. “Hey, who’s that for?”

Cisco followed his gaze, and he suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Oh,” he managed. “No one, man. That’s just a spare.”

Barry nodded in understanding. “Oh.”

“What happened out there today?” Wells asked, wheeling forward. “You were moving pretty well, and then something caused you to lose focus.”

Barry hesitated for a moment. “I started remembering something.”

Wells quirked a brow, expecting him to continue. 

Barry gulped. “When I was eleven, my mother was murdered.” The room quietened so quickly and so harshly he could have heard a pin drop. “It was late. A sound woke me up. I came downstairs and… I saw what... looked like a ball of lightning.”

Wells whipped his glasses off, intrigued by the story.

“Inside the lightning, there was a man.” He clenched his jaw. “He killed my mum. They arrested my dad — he’s still sitting in Iron Heights for her murder. Everyone, the cops, the shrinks, they’ve… they all told me what I saw was impossible.” Barry licked his lips, feeling a small burst of hope. “But what if the man who killed my mum was like me?”

Wells scoffed at the thought. “Well, I think I can say, unequivocally — you are one of a kind.”

Barry smiled thinly, his waning optimism replaced by resignation. Even when he was the centre of the impossible, he still couldn’t find a lead to his mother’s murder. Caitlin ran a few mores tests on him, and soon, Barry was on his way home.

He decided to make a stop along the way at Jitters to see Iris, to tell her about everything was going on in his life, and to apologise for his earlier abrasive attitude. But when he found her kissing Eddie Thawne, he froze in place, his heart leaping into his throat. Feelings he was certain he had buried roared back to the surface, leaving him weak in the knees, and he could only muster a weak smile when Iris noticed him, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on her face.

* * *

 

“I wasn’t the only one affected by the particle accelerator explosion, was I?” Barry demanded as he stormed into the laboratory. The outburst had been cathartic for him, considering the past few minutes he had been forced to endure. Not only was Iris begging him to keep her relationship with Eddie — which flared a wave of jealousy in Barry — a secret, he had squared off with Clyde Mardon, very much alive and with an ability to control the weather. Not only did the encounter result in the death of an innocent man, but Joe had yelled at him, once again, for his fascination with the unsolvable, essentially accusing him of trying to cover up for his father because he was too traumatised to fully process his unspeakable act. Barry left soon after, refusing to listen to the same repetitive lecture.

He had pieced it all together on the journey to S.T.A.R Labs. The second bed, the previous experiment at Ferris Air, Cisco’s uncomfortable glances — it all led back to Harrison Wells, and the particle accelerator.

Wells, Caitlin and Cisco shared a guilty look. “We don’t know for sure,” the eldest scientist admitted.

“You said the city was safe,” Barry accused. “That there was no residual danger. But that’s not true, so what really happened that night?”

Wells looked to his coworkers, but they both remained silent. “Well, the accelerator went active.” He tapped away on the tablet connected to his wheelchair. “We all felt like heroes, and then,” he looked up at something, and Barry craned his neck to see the man peering at a 3D demonstration on a nearby TV, “it all went wrong. The dimensional barrier ruptured, unleashing unknown energies into our world.”

Barry watched with gritted teeth as the demonstration showed two balls of orange energy colliding and unleashing a massive burst of energy, sending a shockwave rippling outwards, before a sphere of energy surged and engulfed the entire city.

“Anti-matter, dark energy, X-elements—”

“Those are all theoretical,” Barry interjected.

“And how theoretical are you?” Wells countered, an undercurrent of anger laced in his tone. 

Taken aback, Barry turned back to the screen. Little orange pockets of pulsating energy had replaced the large energy sphere, dotted across the city map in a sporadic fashion.

“We mapped the dispersions throughout and across Central City, though we have no idea of knowing exactly what or  _ who _ was exposed. We’ve been searching for other meta-humans like yourselves.”

Barry turned to face them, his curiosity piqued. “Meta-humans?”

“That’s what we’re calling them,” Caitlin responded.

“I saw one today.” The three scientists all looked at him in synchronised shock. “He’s a bank robber, and he can control the weather.”

“This just keeps getting cooler,” Cisco grinned excitedly.

Barry glared at him in disbelief. “This is  _ not _ cool, alright? A man  _ died." _ Cisco’s grin fell instantly, and he looked like a scolded schoolboy. “Mardon must have gotten his powers the same way I did, from the storm cloud. He’s still out there! We  _ have _ to stop him before he hurts anyone else.” He turned to walk away, intending to deliver on his plea, when Wells called out to him.

“Barry! That’s a job for the police.”

“I work for the police,” Barry pointed out.

“As a forensic assistant,” Wells countered bluntly. Barry couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being patronised.

_ "You’re _ responsible for this. For him.”

“What’s important is you!” Wells yelled angrily. “Not me. I lost everything. I lost my company. I lost my reputation. I lost my  _ freedom," _ he growled, clenching his fist against the armrest of his wheelchair, before pointing accusingly at Barry, “and  _ you _ broke your arm, and it healed in three hours. Inside your body could be a map to a whole new world. Genetic therapies, vaccines, medicine —  _ treasures _ buried deep within your cells and we cannot  _ risk _ losing everything because you want to go out and play hero!”

Barry listened to the man in stunned silence, unable to process the angry rant, or the implications that he was a mere lab rat.

“You’re not a hero,” Wells said, very quietly, his expression cold, resentful. “You’re just a young man who was struck by lightning.”

Barry couldn’t believe that the man he had looked up to for so long, the man who always encouraged others to defy the norms and excel at what they were good at, was talking down on him because of his ability. He looked to Caitlin and Cisco for support, but they just stared back passively, similar to Iris’ when Joe screamed at him earlier.

_ They’re not going to listen, _ Barry realised. With pursed lips, he turned and left the lab, speeding away as soon as he got the chance. Nobody believed in him, and that stung, especially when he thought he could help.

But there was still one person left. Someone who dealt with the impossible on a regular basis, and defied the norms placed on him skillfully. Barry zoomed out of Central City, and made a direct beeline for Star City, his mind focused only on one goal.

* * *

 

“So, that’s my story,” Barry concluded. “I’ve spent my whole life searching for the impossible, never imagining that I would  _ become _ the impossible.”

“So why come to me?” Oliver asked after a pause. “Something tells me you didn’t just run six hundred miles to say ‘hi’ to a friend."

Barry shook his head. “All my life I wanted to… just… do more. Be more. And now I am, and the first chance I get to help someone, I screw up.”

Oliver processed his words and sighed.

“What if Wells is right?” Barry inquired. “What if I’m not a hero? What if I’m just some guy who was struck by lightning?”

“I don’t think that bolt of lightning struck you, Barry,” Oliver replied. “I think it chose you.”

Barry pursed his lips, considering the words, before dismissing them. “I’m just not sure I’m like you, Oliver,” he admitted truthfully. “I don’t know if I can be some…  _ vigilante." _

“You can be better,” Oliver replied instantly, and Barry’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed the sincere passion in his eyes. “Because you can inspire people…” Oliver took a deep breath, “in a way that I never could. Watching over your city like a guardian angel. Making a difference...” The faintest hint of a smile curved his lips upwards. “Saving people… in a flash.”

Barry considered his words with a small smile as he turned away, relieved that someone believed in him.

“Take your own advice.” Oliver turned back around, and Barry’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed the mask. His mask. The billionaire vigilante cared. The realisation made him feel warm inside. Oliver smiled warmly at him, in a way he hadn’t before. “Wear a mask.”

Barry lips curled in amusement. Oliver’s smile softened,. He bowed his head, before turning and leaping off the rooftop. Barry hurried forward in fear, and could only watch in stunned silence as Oliver connected a zipline arrow to the adjoining rooftop and swung across.

“Cool,” he breathed. Oliver had filled him with hope, not just because of his faith in his abilities, but because he considered Barry a  _ friend. _

Barry turned, and sped back to Central City. He had work to do, and standards to live up to.

* * *

 

Landing on the side of the building with his hood up, Oliver watched as Barry rushed off in a blur of orange. He smiled proudly. In some ways, Barry’s appearance had helped him as well. The sheer fact that he was out of his coma and healthy, with mystifying powers to boot, reminded him that miracles could still happen, and he was still capable of finding the happiness he yearned for.

“Cool.”

He zipped upwards. Tonight, he would return to his crusade, to his friends, and he would sleep easier with the knowledge that he had helped Barry in some capacity, managing to repay the kindhearted C.S.I for all that he had done for his city.

And if his dreams were focused primarily on Barry's bright smile, Oliver wouldn't complain.


	9. It Takes Time

Barry ambled through the open field impatiently, tapping his foot every two seconds to stave off the boredom. “Cisco,” he spoke into a communicator. When he didn’t receive a response, he spoke a little more forcefully. “Cisco!”

“What?” a voice squawked on the other end. “I’m here, I’m here!”

“What took so long? I wanna do this thing,” Barry said.

Cisco huffed loudly. “I had to ditch Caitlin. I don’t think you truly appreciate how difficult that is.”

“It’s just Caitlin,” Barry pointed out.

“‘Just Caitlin’,” Cisco repeated with an air of derisive laughter. “Look, compadre, you don’t know her like I do. You haven’t seen that look in her eyes when she’s angry.  _ Stone cold. _ It’s brutal.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Barry conceded. “Now, we gonna do this or what?”

Cisco paused. It was possibly the first sign of hesitation he had displayed about their upcoming actions. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah!” Barry said eagerly. “You’re seriously having second thoughts now? We haven’t even started!”

“Look, man, I admit that your speed is pretty freaking awesome, but we literally know next-to-nothing about it.” Cisco explained into the comms with a sigh. “I just think we need Wells and Caitlin around in case things go down south.”

“They won’t,” Barry persisted. “Look, you’re monitoring me at every moment, and if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop! It’ll be fine.” He waited with bated breath for the response. Cisco fell unnervingly silent, and Barry was worried he had walked away.

“All right,” Cisco said at last, “but I’m calling all the shots.”

“You’re calling the shots,” Barry agreed with a smile.

“Damn straight,” Cisco muttered. “Okay, systems calibrated, nachos prepped, we’re good to go. Let’s start with a light workout first. Run through all of Central City and back.”

“Easy,” Barry scoffed confidently, and took off. He sped through the field, his stomach doing delighted somersaults as the world blurred around him and the wind whipped at the exposed areas of the new suit Cisco had graciously crafted for him.

After taking Oliver’s advice to heart, Barry had returned to STAR Labs to plead his case and managed to get Caitlin and Cisco on board with his plan to stop Clyde Mardon. The battle had been long, gruelling and — when the weather-based metahuman had managed to conjure a devastating tornado — seemingly hopeless, but the surprising faith from Dr. Wells had motivated him with newfound confidence to defeat his new enemy. For Chyre, for Iris, and for his city.

It wasn’t him who finished Mardon off in the end. Held at gunpoint, Barry was left helpless to the man’s mercy, until Joe burst onto the scene and shot him dead. He had been present for the entire encounter, and was shell-shocked by the revelation. Despite everything, Joe made Barry swear to never tell Iris or Wally about his abilities. Barry had reluctantly agreed, if only to appease his foster father.

That all happened a week ago. Since then, Barry had made a pact with the STAR Labs team to help them collect dangerous metahumans with his new abilities. He was more equipped to handle them than law enforcement were, after all. He’d settled back into normal life, figuring out what had changed and what had stayed exactly the same. He returned to work in two days, something that excited him almost irrationally. The precinct was one of the few things that had remained exactly the same.

Barry was grateful to Oliver. If he hadn’t been around to offer sage advice, there would have been an entirely different outcome.

“Barry!” Cisco exclaimed suddenly, jarring Barry from his thoughts. 

He skidded to an awkward halt and pressed his fingers against the communication device built into the side of his cowl.

“What?”

“Dude, I’ve called out to you like five times now. You’ve overshot the starting point.”

Barry frowned, craning his neck to survey the environment. Sure enough, he was at the edge of a country road, the sprawling field far behind him. Barry could only watch as a family car sputtered past, two kids squishing their faces against the window to stare at him in awe, while the mother cast a disapproving frown in his direction. He waved at them awkwardly, sighed and pressed his hand against the comm. “How did I do?”

“You travelled at three-hundred and twenty miles an hour, and crossed through Central City and back in twelve or so minutes. Not bad,” Cisco appraised in between loud chomps.

Barry frowned. “Are you eating?”

“No,” Cisco said immediately.

“You’re totally eating,” Barry sighed.

There was a long pause. “... Maybe I am!”

“Dude!”

“Hey, I’m calling the shots, remember?” Cisco squawked defensively. “And it’s hard work, sitting around and monitoring you. I gotta eat properly or I’ll collapse. What would you do then, speedy gonzales?”

Barry shook his head fondly. Cisco certainly was a character, and the first person to believe in Barry’s objectives. “Keep going?” he asked hopefully.

“Don’t see why not,” Cisco said neutrally, but the rapid answer expressed his excitement. “I’m no expert, but your vitals look fine, so travelling that sort of distance probably won’t harm you in the long run. Let’s test the scope of your speed. Try another city.”

Barry paused, contemplative. “I know exactly the place.” His rumbling stomach interrupted him, and he chuckled nervously. “But I’m gonna need to pick some food up on the way.”

* * *

 

“That’s new.”

“Yeah,” Laurel acknowledged without letting her guard down, blocking the oncoming kick with her tonfa. “Nine millimetre bullet.”

“Ah.”

“What about you?” Laurel pushed her opponent backwards, spying the fresh scar on her arm. “That’s a new one.”

“Kuroda slash mark,” the opponent explained as she stumbled back. She recovered quickly, and surged forward. Laurel anticipated and blocked the bo-strike, but she didn’t react fast enough when her opponent collapsed the staff into batons and jabbed her in the stomach.

“Ow,” Laurel rasped. “That… really hurts.”

“You’re telling me,” her opponent said with a knowing smirk. “Go again?”

“Absolutely.” 

The duo launched into another flurry of strikes and jabs, deflecting attacks with such expertise it was as if they’d trained together their entire lives. They attracted the curious attention of their team members; Roy paused his archery, Felicity peered over the top of her monitor and Oliver observed them from the salmon ladder.

“Are they seriously comparing scars?” Roy asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Yup,” Felicity replied immediately. “It’s just a thing they… do.”

“They’re like robots.”

“I know. It’s so cool,” Felicity grinned enthusiastically.

“Your hits aren’t coordinated,” Oliver advised gruffly. There was a brief period of silence. In a blur of coordinated movement, the sparring partners suddenly launched a baton and tonfa in his direction. Oliver barely dodged the projectile weapons, almost losing his grip on the ladder rung in the process. He glowered mutinously at them, but was only met with smug smiles. 

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Oliver jumped off the salmon ladder, his lips pursed. His cutting rejoinder was cut off by a sudden rush of wind. In the blink of an eye, Barry Allen was stood in the centre of Team Arrow’s base, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Hey, guys!” Barry said brightly, oblivious to the shocked stares. A deathly silence washed over the Foundry.

Felicity was the first to break the silence. “Oh my god.” She rose from her chair in disbelief. “You’re awake!”

Barry smiled jovially. “I’m awake,” he confirmed. A huff of laughter escaped Felicity’s lips, and she dove in for a hug. Barry returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.

“I’m sorry. It’s just —” Felicity pulled away to properly assess him. “You were in a  _ coma _ when I last saw you. I thought you were…” She quickly shook her head to dispel the thought, “ _ and _ I didn’t know you were awake!”

Barry frowned. “Oliver didn’t tell you?”

“Tell us what?” Felicity’s eyes narrow accusingly. “He knew?” She redirected her gaze at Oliver. “You knew?”

“I found out last week. I was going to tell you but I... forgot.” Oliver shifted uncomfortably, his tone defensive. “It was a long week.”

“Unbelievable.” Felicity sighed in exasperation as she pivoted back to face Barry, a bright smile immediately on her face. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“We all are,” Laurel confirmed, finally snapping out of her stupor. “It’s good to see you, Barry,” she added, walking over and pulling him into a hug.

Barry smiled as they pulled away. “You too. Good to see your arm’s healed. I suppose it would be. It’s been several months.”

“Yes, it has,” Laurel agreed. Barry curiously spotted a black choker around her neck, but didn’t comment on it.

“Is everyone just going to ignore what he did?” a new voice chimed in. Barry turned to see a petite blonde woman in a black tank top eyeing him, her assessing gaze critical and slightly intimidating. Barry couldn’t help but stare at her. There was a familiarity that he couldn’t quite place.

“Not much surprises me anymore,” Laurel hummed. “Particle accelerator, right?”

“Yeah.” Barry furrowed his brow, and regarded the pair closely. Everything suddenly clicked into place. “Wait. You’re…?”

“Sara Lance,” the woman said with a cool smile. “The one and only.”

His eyes widened, and he regarded her in an entirely different light. She was very active for a ghost. “But I thought… I mean, the news said that you were —”

“Dead?” Sara interjected knowingly. “Don’t take it personally. Most of the world thought the same thing.”

“Oh.” Barry floundered for several seconds, desperately trying to think of something nice to say. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” He winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

An amused smile flickered across Sara’s features. “Thanks. I am, too.”

“We’re all just glad to have her back,” Laurel added. She slung an arm around Sara’s shoulders and pulled her in for an embrace. Barry noticed how Sara immediately relaxed in her sister’s presence and smiled softly. It was a tender moment, and he felt as if he were intruding on the moment. 

He looked away and regarded the Foundry with a keen eye, stopping to admire a new mannequin adorned in a red suit similar to the Arrow’s. “That’s new.”

Laurel nodded. “We’ve got a new member out on the field.”

Barry’s eyes shot up in surprise. “Who?”

“Me.”

Barry turned to see a young man in a red hoodie wielding a bow. His eyes lit up in recognition. “Hey, you’re Roy, right? I remember seeing you at Oliver’s party.”

Roy regarded him suspiciously. “That was months ago.”

“Not for me,” Barry explained. “Personally, that party was only last week. I was in a coma for nine month.”

“Wow,” Roy said slowly, his expression contemplative. “Pretty trippy.”

“Definitely,” Barry chuckled. “Nice suit.”

Roy nodded curtly, a small smile on his face. “You too.”

“Thanks! I’m trying it out, testing the fabric to see if it can withstand the friction I generate when I run.”

“And how fast do you run?” Sara asked curiously.

“Last I checked, three-hundred and twenty miles an hour.”

Roy looked impressed. “Nice.”

“Yeah. So, what’s your codename?” Barry asked eagerly. “Sureshot? Vanguard? Oh, how about Red Arrow?”

Roy’s expression soured. “Brave-Bow.”

Barry nodded slowly. “Oh. It’s very…” he struggled to find a suitable word, _ "original." _

“It’s temporary,” Roy said bluntly, glaring at Laurel and Sara, who were desperately trying not to laugh.

“Right.” Barry quickly looked away. His eyes continued to roam around the base, until his attention was drawn to a red box stacked idly on a shelf. He pointed at it with a childish smile. “You’ve still got the rat poison!”

“Yeah. It’s Oliver’s good luck charm now,” Felicity replied. Barry turned to Oliver in surprise, but the archer pursed his lips and pointedly avoided eye contact. He frowned at that, and it only deepened when he noticed the knowing look shared by Felicity and Laurel.

“Barry,” Oliver finally spoke. Barry focused on him, and belatedly realised he was shirtless. He blushed and quickly directed his attention on Oliver’s stoic expression. “What are you doing here?”

A girl bounded down the stairs and into the lair before he had a chance to respond.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “The door was _wide_ _open_. Anybody could have just walked in and —” She skidded to a halt, and glared mutinously at Barry. “Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!”

Laurel immediately rushed to his defence. “It’s okay, Cissie,” she said. “He’s a friend.”

Barry gave a small wave. “Hey.”

Cissie King-Jones regarded him suspiciously. “... Hey,” she said grudgingly.

“We met once before,” Barry pointed out.

Cissie tilted her head and scrutinised him. “Did we?”

“Uh-huh. It was a long time ago, though. Well, for you. To me, we only met last week.”

“Right.” She didn’t look convinced. Barry opened his mouth to try and alleviate her concerns, but she turned to Laurel, effectively shutting the conversation down. “Joanna and Lucy are here.”

Laurel smiled. “Thanks, Cissie.” She turned to the group. “I have to go change.”

“Busy day?” Felicity wondered.

“We’re sorting through some old case files for an upcoming prosecution,” Laurel explained. “And we’re still working on digitising our old CNRI files, which is… a lot harder than we thought.”

“If you need any help, just shout,” Felicity offered. Laurel nodded gratefully, and turned to Barry.

“We have to catch up properly some time,” she said. 

“Absolutely,” Barry agreed. “Whenever you’re free. We can go and get black and white milkshakes. It’d only take me about two hours to get here.”

“Very speedy,” Laurel chuckled. “Bye, Barry. Tell Cisco and Caitlin I said hello.” 

“Bye, Laurel.” He watched as she disappeared further into the Foundry to change out of her gym attire. She was still working hard as an ADA, even with her vigilante moonlighting. It inspired Barry, and alleviated his personal concerns about juggling his forensic work with protecting people.

“I’m off on my break,” Cissie suddenly announced, staring very intently at Sara. “You sure you can handle the bar?”

“Trust me, I can deal with a few rowdy drunks,” Sara assured her with a wry smile. She dropped her batons in a weapon holder and strode away in the same direction as Laurel. “Nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder.

“You too,” Barry managed to say before she disappeared.

“Let’s go, Roy,” Cissie said.

Roy furrowed his brows. “Me?”

“Yeah,  _ you. _ Come on!”

He scoffed derisively, but Cissie intercepted him. “What?” he said sourly.

“You can’t just stay down here and sulk. You’ll end up like him!” she insisted, jerking a thumb in Oliver’s direction to prove her point. “No offence,” she added belatedly, when Oliver gave her a stern look.

“She’s right,” Felicity added sweetly. “You need a break. Oliver?” She leered expectantly at him. Oliver met her gaze with a stony glare, but she didn’t relent. Eventually, he heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Training is done for the day. Take two hours and go out for lunch,” he ordered curtly.

“There, you’ve been dismissed,” Cissie said triumphantly. “Now cheer up so we can ship out, Abercrombie. Sin’s waiting for us, and you know she’d kick your ass.”

“Fine,” Roy said bitingly. “But don’t call me ‘Abercrombie’.”

“Sure, Abercrombie,” Cissie smirked. Roy rolled his eyes and stalked upstairs with his friend in tow.

“She seems happier,” Barry noted.

“Yeah,” Felicity agreed. “Time’s been kind to her. And she’s got her friends to help keep her mind off things.”

“That’s good,” Barry said softly. “Losing a parent isn’t easy.”

Felicity squeezed his arm comfortingly. “If you ever need to just get it off your chest, I’m always here. It’ll be even easier now that you’re speedy.”

Barry appreciated the sentiment, and smiled crookedly. “Thanks, Felicity.”

Felicity patted his shoulder. “Okay. Now I have got to go. I’m meeting up with Ray friend —” She paused and took a breath. “ _A..._ friend... for lunch.” She beamed brightly in his direction. “And by the way, you have _got_ to show how your speed works sometime.”

Barry laughed quietly. “Sure.” He watched her disappear up the stairs, before turning to Oliver. “There’s more people down here than last time,” he pointed out. The memory of Oliver’s bitterness over Felicity revealing his identity was still fresh in his mind.

“I trust them,” Oliver replied.

“That’s good.” Barry sped over to Felicity’s chair and collapsed on it with a heavy sigh. “I wanted to thank you.”

Oliver spun around quickly. Barry gleefully noted that his speed still caught the vigilante off-guard.

“Your advice helped, a lot,” he elaborated. “If it wasn’t for you, Central City would be in a lot of trouble right now.”

“It was you who stopped the threat, Barry.”

“It was you who showed me that I could,” Barry countered. 

Oliver was taken aback. His mouth fell open and closed several times, before he turned away and reached for a hoodie. For a while, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Barry broke the silence. “So… Brave-Bow,” Barry said conversationally, swinging aimlessly in the chair. “It’s very…”

“The codename was my idea,” Oliver said bluntly.

“It’s innovative!” Barry spluttered immediately. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t have that  _ spark. _ I mean — the Arrow, Black Canary and… Brave-Bow?” He grinned at the thought. “It’ doesn’t sound right.”

Oliver sighed exasperatedly. “If you’ve got any better ideas, Barry, I’m all ears.”

“No, no. I’d hate to step on your toes,” Barry said gleefully. 

Oliver said nothing.

Considering it as a victory, Barry switched topics. “Hey, I noticed Diggle wasn’t around. Is he okay?”

“John’s fine,” Oliver said as he tucked Laurel’s tonfas away on her mannequin display. “He’s taken a leave of absence at the moment.”

“Is he okay?” Barry inquired worriedly.

“Yes,” Oliver assured him. “He and Lyla have just had a baby.”

“Oh!” Barry perked up immediately. “That’s great! Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Girl,” Oliver revealed. He ambled over and collapsed in the chair opposite Barry. “He’ll be a good father.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Barry grinned. His smile waned slightly when he noticed Oliver’s withdrawn expression. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said reticently. “I was just…”

“Just what?”

Oliver pursed his lips. “I was thinking about my own dad.”

“Oh.” A distant memory struck Barry. Robert Queen had died on the Gambit. “I miss my father too.”

Oliver smiled thinly. “It’s not just that I miss him,” he murmured. “I… lost my family company recently.”

“I didn’t know that,” Barry admitted sadly. “What happened?”

“Someone better took my place,” he revealed bitterly. “And with my mom and Thea —” Oliver’s breath hitched in his throat, and his expression briefly wavered. “I feel like I messed up.”

“I don’t think you have,” Barry admitted, waving around the Foundry. “You do all this, right? That’s more than most.”

“Most?” Oliver raised a brow.

“Yeah, you’re second only to the Justice Society,” Barry said brightly.

“Fair enough.”

“But it’s not just that,” Barry said sincerely. “You came back to civilisation after five years in hell, and you managed to run a company for a year. That’s impressive, Oliver. You  _ have _ to be able to see that. I mean, I never met your father personally, but I know that he would be proud of you.”

“How could you know that?” Oliver asked brusquely.

“Because I see the way Laurel looks at you,” Barry admitted. The answer seemed to catch the archer off-guard. “And I met Thea, as well. If they’re proud of you and your accomplishments, I’m positive your father would be as well.”

Oliver inclined his head, his expression thoughtful.

“Gotta admit,” Barry said lightly, “I didn’t know you had emotions.”

Oliver’s lips quirked up in amusement. “I  _ am _ still a human being, Barry.”

Barry studied Oliver’s face carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Oliver replied easily, but the warning glare indicated that there was an unspoken limit.

“Why are you telling me this? Not that I’m complaining or anything, but… why me and not Laurel?”

There was a brief pause. Finally, Oliver quietly said, “Because you understand what the feeling of failing a father is like.”

“Yeah.” Barry recalled their meeting on the rooftop, and of how he’d expounded his fears and story on Oliver in a jumble of words that sounded painfully incoherent in his head, and yet managed to somehow relay his feelings to Oliver. “I’m still feeling that,” he admitted.

Oliver’s curious gaze prompted him to elaborate.

“My foster father still doesn’t believe in him,” Barry continued, running a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “He knows about my abilities now. He even saw them first-hand, but…” He shook his head. “He thinks it’s too dangerous. And he refuses to believe that my case has anything to do with my mom’s murder.”

“He’s right, this life is dangerous,” Oliver conceded, “but you’ve chosen it as your own. I told you that you can save people in a way we can’t, Barry, because you can make a difference. You have a resolve that pushes you forward, to work harder. Your city needs you. Joe will see that, but it takes time. You just have to be patient.”

“I’ve never been good at that,” Barry admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. He paused and looked up at Oliver suspiciously. “How do you know Joe’s name?”

Oliver pursed his lips and looked away skittishly. “We met while you were in the coma. He’s very… direct.”

Barry covered his face with a hand, mortified. “He is  _ very _ direct,” he agreed. He peeked through his fingers curiously. “Did you meet Iris?”

“Yes.”

“What did you think of her?”

Oliver frowned. He was clearly experiencing difficulty in mustering up a compliment. Barry almost pitied him. “She’s… nice. Felicity says she makes good coffee.”

“CC Jitters has the best coffee in America,” Barry said proudly. “You should come visit more often. I mean, if you want to. You’re probably very busy shooting people and...stuff — in the nicest way possible! But when you’re free, you should definitely come down to Central City.”

“I’ll think about it,” Oliver said blandly. It wasn’t disinterest, per se, but it didn’t evoke a great deal of sentiment, either. Barry wondered if that was Oliver’s default mood.

_ "Barry." _

_ ‘Speaking of moods..." _ Barry thought to himself as he groaned quietly. He tapped the oft-forgotten communicator and acknowledged the furious person on the other end. “Hey, Caitlin!” he said brightly. “Everything okay?”

“What on  _ Earth _ are you doing in Star City?” Caitlin seethed.

“Well, Cisco and I — “

“Hey, don’t bring me into this!” Cisco shrieked. Barry winced at the feedback generated by the loud noise. They’d have to fix that.

“Don’t bother, I already know the answer,” Caitlin said angrily. “Bring the suit back.  _ Now." _

Barry sighed wearily, and smiled apologetically at Oliver. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

He stood up, ready to speed away, when Oliver’s voice halted him.

“Barry.”

Barry looked down, his brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

“Use the backdoor,” Oliver advised. “You won’t be seen that way.”

“Right,” Barry nodded. “Good idea. Bye, Oliver.”

“And by the way?” Oliver said with a smile. “Nice mask.”

Barry grinned at him. For a second, nothing else mattered. The world only consisted of him and Oliver, but then reality washed over him and he was speeding away, from Star City. From Oliver. He had barely passed the city limits before Cisco’s voice jarred him from his thoughts.

“Dude, I have a bone to pick with you!”

“What? Why?”

“Why?!” Cisco huffed. “You turned off the comms without telling me. I was literally talking to thin air like a  _ YouTuber, _ and you were too busy flirting with Oliver Queen!”

“How do you know I was talking to Oliver Queen?” Barry challenged.

Cisco scoffed. “Please. I’d recognise that smooth, baritone voice anywhere.”

“And I wasn’t flirting with him,” Barry added.

_ "Sure," _ Cisco groused. “And you muted your comms. You’ve got game, my young padawan. Spill the beans, man. What kind of racy discussions were you having, hmm?”

“We weren’t talking about stuff like that!” Barry protested.

“That doesn’t matter.” Caitlin was suddenly at the comms. Barry could hear Cisco’s rampant complaints in the background, but neither of them paid him any attention. “Just hurry back.”

“Okay,” Barry said complacently. “I’ll be there soon.”

“How soon?” She said suddenly, catching Barry off-guard.

“Well…”

“How soon, Barry?” Caitlin insisted.

“About an hour or so,” he said casually.

_ "Barry!" _

“See you soon!” he said happily before quickly switching off the comms device. He slightly regretted his actions, knowing that he would have to face Caitlin’s wrath sooner or later, but the thought of Oliver and his team rested at the forefront of his brain, pushing everything else aside. They were all so kind to him, and they helped prepare him for the complicated task of juggling a normal life with superheroics that inevitably awaited him.

With a whoop, Barry surged forward with a burst of speed.

* * *

 

Oliver sat in the Foundry, alone. Barry’s comforting words still floated in his mind. He hadn’t shown it, but they had helped calm his frayed thoughts. Ever since Slade Wilson’s attack on Star City, Oliver had been doubting himself and his abilities, but Barry had come along and set his mind at rest.

But even Barry was unable to help fill the hole in Oliver’s heart.

He wasn’t certain when it had started, but Oliver increasingly felt more alone with each passing day. He suspected that the death of his mother and Thea’s departure had both been major factors, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t quite grasp. He’d foolishly believed that he had moved on from it, but it had come crashing down on him when Barry mentioned John and his family.

Frowning to himself, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a specific one. He froze, and rubbed his bottom lip anxiously, suddenly very uncertain of himself. She’d promised him that she’d call once she had settled down, but that several months ago.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Oliver called the number.

The phone rang several times, before going straight to voicemail. He sighed, and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Speedy,” he said lightly. “It’s been a while. I know you said you’d call when you were ready, but I just wanted to let you know that I still think about you, and I miss you, and I hope you’re doing well. So, when you get this, call me if you can. I love you, Thea.”

He hung up and tossed his phone onto a nearby desk. Swivelling around, he surveyed the empty Foundry. 

He thought back to something he’d brokenly told John Diggle once, and the words inflicted more pain on him than any physical wound ever managed.

“I don’t want to die alone down here,” he murmured quietly. But this time there was nobody around to listen. All of his team members had someone to turn to, and he trudged back to an empty apartment every night.

* * *

Thea Queen looked down at the voicemail notification anxiously, uncertain. She had promised she’d call him once she had settled down, but that had been months ago.

“Someone important?” a voice inquired, snapping her out of her ruminations.

“No,” Thea said. The woman opposited her arched an eyebrow. _ "Really," _ she insisted. “It’s no one.”

“Good,” said the woman. “In the state you’re in, I’m surprised you even picked up a phone.”

Thea groaned. “You had to remind me. I hurt  _ everywhere." _

“You chose this life, Princess, you have to reap the consequences,” the woman retorted coolly. She poured two glasses of wine, and passed one over. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a treat now and again.”

A contented Thea sighed. “Carménère. Bliss.” 

She tipped the glass to her mouth. Before the first droplet even reached her lips, a glinting silver object zipped through the air and shattered the cup, drenching her seat and dousing her hand in shards of glass that cut into her skin.

_ "Jade!" _ Thea hissed, staring down at her bloody hand in shock, willing herself to not scream out in agony. “What. The. Hell?”

Jade narrowed her eyes, an unapologetic smirk contorting her expression into a sneer. “What? You’re telling me you honestly didn’t see that coming?”

“No!” Thea muttered. “I thought training was over for the day, you crazy bitch!”

“Training is never over, Thea,” Jade snapped, silencing the younger girl. “You wanted this life, which means you have to work hard at it every single day. You think your enemies will let you off just because you’re tired? You need to wake up.”

“Cheshire is right, Thea.” Malcolm stepped out from the shadows. His league robes were covered in blood and his arm was bandaged in white gauze. The candlelight illuminated his stoic features.  “If you’re committed, you have to give your all. And besides, she taught you a very important lesson.”

“Yeah, she’s a psycho!” Thea whined.

“Pay attention!” Malcolm said bitingly. “Your refusal to learn will get you killed.”

Ashamed, Thea fell silent.

“Smell this,” Jade ordered, holding out her glass of untouched wine.

“I know what wine smells like,” Thea scoffed. “Okay? I ran a  _ nightclub." _

“Thea,” Malcolm said warningly. Thea grudgingly took the glass and sniffed it.

“Tell me what you smell,” Jade commanded.

“I smell wine,” Thea said sarcastically.

“Smell deeper,” Jade urged. “Sarcasm is a blunt instrument that will get you killed if you don’t focus.”

Unnerved, Thea sniffed deeply. “It’s strong,” she said. “Really rich.”

“And…?” Jade cocerced. Thea closed her eyes, focusing on sharpening her senses. There was something about the Carménère that she couldn’t place.

“It doesn’t smell right,” she realised. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of Malcolm’s proud expression.

“It’s laced with poison,” Jade said, capturing Thea’s attention. Her casual indifference was frightening. “Cyanide, if you want to be precise. Noblemen have been using the aroma of red wine to cover up the potency of the poison. Brutally effective, and something to look out for.”

“Great, I get scars and a history lesson on the same day,” Thea grumbled.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, little girl.”

“I’m proud of you, Thea,” Malcolm said. “You’re finally learning. You’ll be stronger before you know it.”

“Great,” Thea sighed.

Malcolm stared at her for several seconds, his expression unreadable. “We’re moving in two hours. Bandage your hand and get some rest. We spar at daybreak.”

Despite the sore bruises and her aching body, Thea couldn’t muster up the energy to formulate a cutting rejoinder. A frisson of excitement bloomed in her chest. She could slowly feel herself growing stronger through the fatigue. Everyday she was more agile, cunning and powerful. The feeling was more intoxicating than any wine or drug could hope to accomplish.

“Can’t wait,” she said. And she meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's good to be back! Major thanks to [needfricnds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/needfricnds/pseuds/needfricnds) who was my beta for the week! One thing I want to address is that Sara is alive in this continuity, and was never shot off the roof by Thea. I have a game plan for this, one I am very excited by, and one I hope will excite you too when the time comes. Fair warning: canon is switched up a lot from this point onwards, so not everything is going to be the same as the DCTV shows portrayed.


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